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fhe Wooing of Eve 



HABTLEY MANNERS 




AMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th St., New York 



y 



The Wooing of Eve 



An Entirely Artificial and Sentimental 
Comedy in Three Acts 



, 



:U 



By 



[i HARTLEY MANNERS 
if 



Copyright, 1920, by J. Hartley Manners 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION : Professionals and amateurs are here- 
by warned that w THE WOOING OF EVE," 
being fully protected under the (copyright laws of 
the United States, is subject to a royalty, and 
any one presenting the play without the consent 
of the owner or his authorized agents will be lia- 
ble to the penalties by law providede. Applica- 
tion for amateur acting rights must be made to 
Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New 
York. 



SAMUEL FRENCH 

publisher 

28 — 30 West 38th Street 

New York 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



<# 

VT 



^ 



Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this 
book without a valid contract for production first hav- 
ing been obtained from the publisher confers no right 
or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the 
play publicly or in private for gain or charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
public only and no performance of it may be given 
except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 
28-30 West Thirty-eighth Street, New York City. 

Section 28 — That any person who wilfully or for profit 
shall infringe any copyright secured by this act, or 
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dollars, or both, in the discretion of the court. 



Act of March 4, 1909. 



>o97 



i>te "2 b^u 



§ 



> 



The following is a copy of the programme of the first 
performance of "The Wooing of Eve" at the Liberty 
Theatre, New York City. 



Monday evening, November 26, 1917 

LAURETTE TAYLOR 

in 

THE WOOING OF EVE 

A Thoroughly Artificial and Sentimental Comedy 
In Three Acts 

by 
J. HARTLEY MANNERS 

With 
A. E. ANSON 

Produced under the personal direction of the Author 



THE CHARACTERS IN THE COMEDY 

Miss Alverstone Miss Laurette Taylor 

Mrs. Rodd Mrs. Teresa Maxwell Conover 

Winifred. ....... Miss Lynn Fontanne 

WalklEy Miss Catherine Proctor 

Sir Philip Grafton Mr. A. E. Anson 

Brice Livingstone Mr. Earle Brown 

John Rodd Mr. Frank Kemble Cooper 

Cyril Dallas Rokeby Parriscourt 

Mr. Leonard Mudie 

Rev. Henry Warrender Mr. Douglas Ross 

Winch Mr. J. M. Kerrigan 

Bates Mr. Basil West 

THE SCENES IN THE COMEDY 

Act I. The action passes in the drawing-room of 
John Rodd's "town house" in Mount 
Street, London. Afternoon. 

Act II. The action passes in the library at Sir 
Philip Grafton's, Edgeware. Evening 
of the same day. 

Act III. The same as Act I. The next mornings 



The incidents of the comedy take place in England 
during the last days of peace. 



The Wooing of Eve 



ACT I 

The action passes in the drawing-room of John 
Rodd's town house in Mount Street, London. 

In both architecture and coloring the room sug- 
gests a reproduction of early Italian art. 

Recessed windows r., with cushioned seat running 
around. Large chesterfield turned to face windows 
r. Sofa down r.c. Table with curios, etc., behind 
sofa. Double doors up c. Large ottoman down l. 
Upholstered stool l.c. Door down l. 

The whole scheme of coloring is in the most ex- 
quisite harmony and good taste. 

There is a deep, yellow fog outside, consequently 
the room is almost dark. 

As the curtain rises Bates, an elderly, nervous, 
timid footman, enters, followed by Cyril Dallas 
Rokeby Parriscourt, a tall, slight, fair young man 
of twenty-seven with something of the affectation 
of a girl of nineteen. The scheme of his whole at- 
tire shows thought and care and suggests the high- 
priest of the religion of clothes. From his well 
brushed hair to his pointed shoes there emanates a 
glow of definite, smug satisfaction. He walks down 
c. and sits on ottoman l. Bates stands c. after 
closing doors. 

Bates. Shall I turn on some light, sir? 
Parriscourt. Light? Light? Oh, yes! Do, 
please. 

5 



6 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Bates. (Going to switch, turns on brackets, up 
n.) The fog is very thick, sir. 

(First r. and second L. lights up) 

ParriscourT. Very ! Very thick ! 

(Bates turns on lights, switch above door l. When 
Bates is c.) 

Parriscourt. Has Sir Philip Grafton called this 
morning ? 

Bates. I don't know the gentleman, sir. 

Parriscourt. (Looking at him, surprised) Oh? 

Bates. No, sir. It's only my second day here, 
sir. 

Parriscourt. (Nods) Is Mrs. Rodd in? 

Bates. (Up) I'll see, sir. (Goes out c, leaving 
doors open) 

(Parriscourt rises and moves restlessly about the 
room, stops at the table r.c, picks up a finely 
chiselled dagger from it, and reads the inscrip- 
tion. Bates re-enters carrying a jewel-case, 
which he places on the table) 

Bates. (At table) Mrs. Rodd is in, sir. ("Par- 
riscourt brightens up) She desires me to say she 
will be with you in a few moments. 

Parriscourt. Thanks! (Bates goes out c, 
leaving doors open, and turns on switch in the hall) 

(Parriscourt takes up the jewel-case, opens it, looks 
at the contents eagerly, and fingers them ex- 
citedly. He reveals in his manner all the curi- 
ous appreciation of some sensitive gentlewoman 
at the sight and touch of precious stones. As 
he holds the case beneath the glow of the lamp 
on table r.c. he gives a sigh of delight, replac- 
ing the jewel-case open on the table) 

(Enter Mrs. Rodd, an attractive woman of possibly 



THE WOOING OF EVE 7 

thirty. She has the tired, imperious manner of 
a restless, discontented nature, and the queru- 
lousness of a self-constituted invalid. She 
closes door and comes c) 

Parriscourt. (Meets her and takes her gloved 
hand, Confidently, and with an air of possession, into 
his own) Dear heart ! (Kisses her hand. She 
crosses dozvn l. after quickly withdrawing her hand. 
He looks at her with fervid admiration) What an 
old-world picture you make ! 

Mrs. Rodd. Old-world? (Standing in front of 
easy chair l.c.) 

Parriscourt. ft.) Yon might have stepped 
from the frame of some Fifteenth-Century master. 

Mrs. Rodd. Oh! (Turns away l.) Don't try 
to be poetic — in a fog. O/d-worfd ! I never felt 
more modern. (Sits on easy chair l., looks around 
room and shivers. Parriscourt comes dozvn and 
stands by seat r. of easy chair) I loathe electric 
light in the day. (Glances around room. Coughs. 
Looks up at him) Don't stand there staring at me. 
(r. movement ) You have no idea how ridiculous 
you look. 

Parriscourt. Ah ! (Movement of homage) 

Mrs. Rodd. Sit down ! 

Parriscourt. (Laughs a sickly laugh that is 
meant to be full of devotion, sits on r. edge of seat, 
and sighs) Ah! 

Mrs. Rodd. (Shrinks from him) Oh! (Sharp- 
ly) Have you been waiting long? 

Parriscourt. Only a few minutes. It seemed 
years without you. 

Mrs. Rodd. Really? (Indifferently) 

Parriscourt. (Indicating the flower at her waist 
— moves a little nearer on seat) That orchid was 
an inspiration. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Looks at it) I loathe the sickly 



8 THE WOOING OF EVE 

things. (She unpins it, and is about to throw it 
away to r.) 

Parriscourt. (Stopping her) Give it to me. 
(He takes it from her and fondles it lovingly) 

Mrs. Rodd. My husband left it for me. 

Parriscourt. (Starts. All enthusiasm dies) 
Your husband ? 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes. (He throws it azvay to c. on 
the floor behind seat and wipes his fingers on his 
handkerchief ) It came in with my coffee this morn- 
ing. 

Parriscourt. Oh ! 

Mrs. Rodd. Well? (Sharply) What do you 
want? 

Parriscourt. To be near you, dear heart! 
(Bending nearer to her) 

Mrs. Rodd. Not too near. (Draws away with a 
large gesture as if waving him still further from her, 
then settling back comfortably and looking coldly 
and scrutinisingly at him. After a moment's pause 
she speaks) Well ? Go on ! Talk ! Make crude, 
obvious, insolent love to me. It may distract me. 
(Closes her eyes) Oh ! A night of neuralgia, a fog, 
you, and a morning of wedding preparations! 
(Shivers) 

Parriscourt. How is the dear little bride? 

Mrs. Rodd. The dear little bride is in a furious 
little temper with all of us. When she isn't 
crying she is fainting; when she isn't doing either 
she is abusing her father — and me — and the bride- 
groom. 

Parriscourt. No change, dear heart? (Mrs. 
Rodd shows irritation) 

Mrs. Rodd. No. She dislikes the idea of mar- 
riage more and more tjie nearer it draws. 

Parriscourt. (Laughs) Sweet creature! Sir 
Philip has all the prospects of an interesting experi- 
ment. Hasn't he, dear . . . ? 



THE WOOING OF EVE 9 

Mrs. Rodd. (Querulously, checking him) Don't 
say "Dear heart" again. You have no idea how it 
jars. It's bad enough with the sun shining, but in a 
fog ... ! 

Parriscourt. Don't be horrid, dear . . . (She 
looks at him) . . . dear one! (Pause) It will be 
an extraordinary marriage. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Rising and moving restlessly to 
window) How I loathe London when it's like this ! 
(Goes to table, lights cigarette, coughs) It stifles me. 
(Moves to l. by ottoman) 

Parriscourt. Lucerne just now — is superb. 

Mrs. Rodd. (To c.) Lucerne? 

Parriscourt. Yes, dear — creature. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Sits on ottoman) If you talk like 
that we're not going to be friends. 

Parriscourt. We can never be — friends. (Pulls 
small ottoman over to her and sits) The friend- 
ship of a single man for a married woman is, in 
theory, delightful ; in practice, elastic. Elastic 

stretches to a certain point only, and then (Snaps 

his fingers) snaps. How you ever married John 
Rodd is an unsolved riddle to me. Why did you do 
it? Pique? Ambition? Or avarice? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Thinks a moment. Laughing 
harshly) A little of all three, I think. (Rises and 
crosses up c. and dozen again. Changing her tone 
abruptly) But don't let's talk of it. 

Parriscourt. Then let's talk of — Lucerne. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Stops level with him, looking 

straight at him) Do you really suggest ? 

- Parriscourt. (Hurriedly) Nothing. I'm at the 
end of my resources. (Rises. Crosses up to her) 
What do you suggest? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Turning away. Down to back of 
chair l.J I don't know. I don't like to think. 

Parriscourt. (Crosses to her). And all the 
while you think of nothing else. (Pause) 



io THE WOOING OF EVE 

Mrs. Rodd. There are moments when I am drawn 
to John. He seems like a magician. 
Parriscourt. A magician? 
Mrs. Rodd. Yes. He transmutes iron into gold. 
The world seems to be watching him — listening to 
everything he says. He is master of it. 

Parriscourt. (Derisively) What world is he 
master of ? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Turns, facing him) The world of 
money, my friend. (Touching jewels) Don't for- 
get that. 

Parriscourt. Oh ! 

Mrs. Rodd. And remember also that money, if 
you get enough of it, can make you forget most 
things. 

Parriscourt. Except one's two important senses 
— humor and smell. (Mrs. Rodd looks at him) 
Where was your sense of humor, when you married 
him? His soul is in iron — evil-smelling, disgusting- 
looking iron. Besides, he's fifty. More, possibly. 
And a daughter old enough to be married to-mor- 
row ! The daughter should have restrained you, 
dear heart! (Mrs. Rodd looks at him) I beg your 
pardon. It slipped out. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Thinking) And yet, I was happy 
— for a time. (Crosses down l. of easy chair to 
front of it) 

Parriscourt. I have no capacity for being jeal- 
ous (Mrs. Rodd looks at him) 

Mrs. Rodd. No? 

Parriscourt. of the past. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Sits chair l.) And the pres- 
ent? 
Parriscourt. (Sits above seat) Is mine. 
Mrs. Rodd. You're very confident. 
Parriscourt. The world was made for the con- 
fident. You are my world. 

Mrs. Rodd. Suppose you lose it ? 



THE WOOING OF EVE n 

Parriscourt. Willingly — when it is destroyed 
by fire. Not till then. 
Mrs. Rodd. Oh? 
Parriscourt. (Slowly drops his voice) Not — 

till — then — dear (Leans forward to her. A 

look from Mrs. Rodd. Draws back) person. 

Mrs. Rodd. (After a pause during which she 
looks straight at him. Crosses to table r.c. Leaves 
cigarette in ash-tray. Parriscourt follozvs her with 
his eyes) Will you promise me something? 

Parriscourt. Oh, don't! I distrust promises. 
They always suggest a doubt. (Crosses to her) 
That is the weak part of the marriage-service. No 
one should ever promise anyone anything. It would 
make life so much freer not to, wouldn't it? 
Mrs. Rodd. You won't promise me? 
Parriscourt. Anything! (Rise) Everything. 
(Crosses to her. Drops tone) Nothing. (Takes her 
hand) Why not Lucerne? You must decide now. 
Go with me, or send me away. 

Mrs. Rodd. Very well. I'll send you away. 
Take care. You are hurting my hand. 

Parriscourt. (Releasing her. She crosses down 
R. of ottoman r.c.) If I go I shall not come back. 
Mrs. Rodd. As you please! 
Parriscourt. (Above ottoman) Why do you 
treat me like this? You were so different yester- 
day. 

Mrs. Rodd. Perhaps it's the fog. 
Parriscourt. I thought you cared for me. 
Mrs. Rodd. I do, sometimes — when you're amus- 
ing and I'm bored. You're not a bit funny to-day. 
Parriscourt. Oh ! Why not go with me ? You 
are always before me. I can't work— or think. I've 
done nothing since we met. When I am with you 
my brain teems with poems. When I leave you I 
am barren. Doubt kills genius. 

Mrs. Rodd. Then you had better not see me any 



12 THE WOOING OF EVE 

more. If I've killed your genius it's really time 
you went, isn't it ? (Bitterly) I don't want to have 
a poet's ruined career at my door. 

Parriscourt. Go with me, and I'll write as I 
have never written before. You will place me on a 
pinnacle. You will 

(Door l. opens. Mrs. Rodd stops him with a ges- 
ture, and turns back to the jewels, behind the 
table. Enter Winifred Rodd, a beautiful, shy, 
sensitive child of eighteen. She walks well into 
the room before realizing that anyone is in it. 
When she sees Mrs. Rodd and Parriscourt 
she stops and stands irresolutely looking from 
one to the other, and makes a movement to go) 

Parriscourt. (Moves down l.c, by ottoman to 
Winifred and shakes hands with her, breaking the 
situation zvith easy assurance) My dear, dear, dear 
Miss Rodd. My kindest wishes for to-morrow. 

Winifred. (Up r. of ottoman, l.c, faintly — 
drazvs back) Thank you ! 

Parriscourt. Do you know, I intended to bring 
you my last little volume of verse? It is called 
"Poems That Bruise." (Winifred sniffs) You'll 
love them. They are bound in blue-and-gold. So 
charming ! Each song has its own individual heart- 
throb. Indeed, there's a blue-and-gold heart on the 
cover with a dagger through it. (Winifred sobs) 
You're so sympathetic you'll cry all the time you're 
reading it. If you'll allow me I'll go back for it. 
(Winifred turns away) 

Winifred. It's most kind of you, but 

Parriscourt. (Backing up) Not at all! I 
stupidly left them in my hall — with my gloves. I 
won't be very long. (Backs away a step. To Mrs. 
Rodd, who is standing up r., by table, as he goes to 
door c.) Do, please, think that over. Will you? 
Perhaps when I come back you may (Mrs 



THE WOOING OF EVE 13 

Rodd looks quickly at him and glares) Ha! Ha! 
(Laughs nervously) Yes! For the present ! (Bows 
to Mrs. Rodd and Winifred separately, and goes 
out c. Winifred moves towards door l.) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Calls to Winifred) Come here. 
(Winifred goes to her. Mrs. Rodd places the 
jewel-case in her hands) Aren't they priceless? 

Winifred. (Looks at the jewels, then bursts into 
tears) I can't marry him. I can't. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Irritably) For goodness' sake don't 
cry again. (Winifred walks down r. of ottoman' 
to front of it) It's so wearing. I'd rather you'd 
faint than cry. It's quieter. (As Winifred con- 
tinues to cry Mrs. Rodd places jewel-case on table) 
Don't! (Gradually Winifred's sobs lessen. Mrs. 
Rodd sits l. of her) You must think a little of 
others. Think of your father. He seems to have 
set his heart on this marriage. 

Winifred. (Suddenly looking up) Have / no 
heart? Why should I be forced into marrying a 
man I dislike, when all the time I love someone 
else? 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes, yes, yes, I know. Still 

Winifred. My father won't listen to me. He 
would to you. You are his wife. (Sobs) He loves 
you. (Sob) I am only his child. (Sob) Plead 
for me with him. Will you? (Pause) Will you? 

Mrs. Rodd. All right. I will. 

Winifred. (Crying and laughing half -hysteri- 
cally) Oh, thank you! Bless you! (Embraces 
Mrs. Rodd) 

Mrs. Rodd. Don't ! Don't ! Mind my hair. 

Winifred. I'm so sorry. (Winifred straight- 
ens Mrs. Rodd's hair) For the first time I have 
hope. Whatever you wish is law to him. He wor- 
ships you. (Sobs and laughs and attempts to em- 
brace Mrs. Rodd again) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Draws back) Winifred, take care ! 



14 THE WOOING OF EVE 

I'M see what can be done the moment he comes back. 

(Winifred sabs) Ssh ! 

Winifred. (Sobbing. Wiping her eyes) You 
see how wrong it would be. Don't you ? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Without feeling) Yes, yes! Of 
course it would be. (Winifred sobs. Mrs. Rodd 
rises. Helps Winifred up) Now go upstairs and 
bathe your eyes. You'll look positively hideous if 
you keep crying all day. Hideous ! (Moves up c.u) 

Winifred. (In front of sofa, looking straight at 
Mrs. Rodd) You've never liked me. Have you ? 

Mrs. Rodd. Why do you say that? Liked you? 
Of course I have. 

Winifred. (Sadly) No, you haven't. But you 
do pity me now, don't you ? (Moves to Mrs. Rodd 
c.) 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes. I do. 

Winifred. (Smiles. Simply) Thank you. (Cries 
bitterly) It's the first time I've been happy for 
days. (Sniffs, steps away r. Looking up and straight 
at Mrs. Rodd) And, see, should you ever be in any 
trouble or danger I'll do all I can in my poor little 
way to help you. 

Mrs. Rodd. (On her guard in a moment. Look- 
ing coldly and suspiciously at her) Trouble? Dan- 
ger? In what way? 

Winifred. I can't quite tell you. But you're 
unhappy, too, aren't you? 

Mrs. Rodd. Why should I be? 

Winifred. I don't know — quite. But I'm sure 
you are. I've watched you. (Mrs. Rodd faces her) 
In this great house, sometimes filled with people, 
I've seen you quite alone — and with misery in your 
eyes. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Alarmed) Oh! So you've watched 
me, have you? 

Winifred. Oh, yes, often. When you little 
thought I was near you. I'm treated as a child. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 15 

Things are said before me — people's lives discussed 
— as freely as if I were not there. Sometimes they 
have talked about you. And I've been frightened. 
(Goes impulsively to Mrs. Rodd) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Looking at her malignantly and 
pushing her away) So you have been watching me ? 
And listening to talk about me? I'm not so sure 
that this marriage isn't the best thing that could hap- 
pen. 

Winifred. Oh ! 

Mrs. Rodd. When you are Lady Grafton at any 
rate I shall be rid of you. (Goes right up c. Wini- 
fred following her. Mrs. Rodd l. of door) 

Winifred. (In terror) Don't say that. I'U 
never watch you again. I'll go away if anyone 
speaks of you. I'll see nothing — hear nothing. But 
don't — don't (Mrs. Rodd comes a step l.c.) 

(Doors c. are opened by Bates and John Rodd en- 
ters. He is an active, powerful man, a few 
years past fifty. His hair is streaked with grey, 
his forehead broad and massive, his eyes keen, 
sharp and penetrating, his manner quick and 
masterful. He hands Bates a letter) 

Rodd. (To Bates) Take that down yourself. 
(On hearing Rodd's voice, Winifred goes quickly 
ifttQ the alcove behind the curtains, r. Rodd stands 
in doorway, looking at his zvife, who is standing l. 
by doors. He smiles) I hoped you'd be in. 

Mrs. Rodd. I'm going upstairs. My head's split- 
ting. (Goes up to l. of doors c.) 

Rodd. Don't go for a minute. 

Mrs. Rodd. Oh, all right. (Grosses l.dJ 

Rodd. (Coming down) Is your head very 
bad? 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes, it is. (Sits, leans back in chair 
I*) 

Rodd. What a shame! (d.l.c.) London isn't 



j6 THE WOOING OF EVE 

fit to live in on a day like this. When all the worry 
of the wedding is over let us go to Scotland for a 
few weeks, eh ? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Shivers) Scotland, indeed. I loathe 
it. (Suspiciously) Why are you so early? 

Rodd. (Evasively) Eh? Why? I'm tired of 
business for today. So — I — thought I'd come — 
home. 

Mrs. Rodd. Is that all? 

Rodd. Yes. What else? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Sharply) I don't know what 
else ! What a stupid question ! 

Rodd. (c. Sadly) That's curious! I do all I 
can to please you, yet I seem always to say and do 
the very things you dislike. Don't I? (Turns 
away a little) I wonder why? 

Mrs. Rodd. Don't let us analyze. It's bad enough 
to be ill, without probing for reasons for the ill- 
ness. 

Rodd. (Lightly) I suppose married life does 
grow into a form of complaint. 

Mrs. Rodd. Oh, if someone would only find the 
marriage-germ and destroy it ! 

Rodd. (Looking intently at her) Do you feel 
that? 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes, I do. 

Rodd. I see you do. (Pause) Try not to let 
others know it. Will you? Please! (Pause) It 
would be very humiliating to me if you did. (Pause) 
Do you mind ? 

Mrs. Rodd. All right. 

Rodd. (Sits r. of her. Softly) I'm sorry things 
have come to this. I've done what I could. You've 
had everything you wanted? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Wearily — smiles) Oh, yes. Every- 
thing. I ought to be satisfied. 

Rodd. I've asked very little. Yet for the last 
year we seem to have got further from each other 



THE WOOING OF EVE 17 

every day. Don't we? (Pause) Why? (Pause) 
Is it my fault? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Mockingly) Oh, no. (Rises and 
up c.) It's never the man's fault. It's always the 
woman's. We're so unreasonable. (Opens c. doors 
a little) Is that what you asked me to stay here and 
listen to? 

Rodd. (Moves tip to r. of her) No. (She turns 
in the doorway) There's another thing I want you 
to do for me. 

Mrs. Rodd. What? (Comes down c.r. suspi- 
ciously) 

Rodd. (ex.) I would like you to be civil to 
someone who is coming here today on a visit. My 
niece. I haven't seen her for years. She spends 
most of her time traveling. She hasn't been in Eng- 
land since we — were married. She arrived this 
morning from America. 

Mrs. Rodd. Is she an American ? 

Rodd. Yes. My sister married one. 

Mrs. Rodd. Oh, indeed! You never told me 
that. 

Rodd. I've never bothered you much with my 
family, but I would like you to be nice to Eve. 
She's the only one of my relatives I care about. 
Will you ? (Pause) The boat got into Southamp- 
ton a few hours ago. I intended to meet her at the 
train, but couldn't at the last minute. So I sent my 
secretary to the station to take care of her and bring 
her here. 

Mrs. Rodd. Here? 

Rodd. Yes. 

Mrs. Rodd. To stay? 

Rodd. If you don't mind. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Comes down to ottoman r.) I 
most certainly do mind. 

Rodd. (c.) That's a pity! Up to a few years 
ago she used to spend months every year with Wini- 



18 THE WOOING OF EVE 

fred and — her mother. (Pause) I hoped you'd be 
friends, too. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Angrily) Why did you invite her 
here? 

Rodd. What else could I do? She cabled from 
New York that she was. sailing, and I replied asking 
her to make this her home as she always used to. 

Mrs. Rodd. Without consulting me? (Accusa- 
tion) 

Rodd. I meant to. But I've had so much to think 
of lately that I forgot. If you don't want her to 
come here 

Mrs. Rodd. (Up c.) I don't. 

Rodd. Very well. (Crosses r.) 

Mrs. Rodd. At a time like this. (Turns down) 
Isn't the wedding enough to bother about? 

Rodd. Of course. Quite right. 

Mrs. Rodd. In future ask me before you invite 
anyone. ( Winifred cries and sobs) 

Rodd. I will. (Pause. Rodd hears sobs. Wini- 
fred appears through the curtains, sobbing and 
sniffling) What's that? Is it a cat? (Rodd turns 
and sees her) Why, Winifred, have you been here 
since I came in? 

Winifred. (Nods) Yes. 

Rodd. (Looks at his wife and then back to Win- 
ifred ) Pity ! You've been crying again ? (Seats 
her l. of ottoman, r.) 

Winifred. (Sobs and sniffs) Yes. 

Rodd. Now, why don't you like Grafton ? (Sits 
r. of Win i FRED ) 

Winifred. Because I love someone else. 

Rodd. Warrender. 

Winifred. Yes. 

Rodd. A clergyman- without a living. 

Winifred. I love him. 

Rodd. What do you suppose he can give you? 
(Mrs. Rodd sits on seat, l.cJ 



THE WOOING OF EVE 19 

Winifred. But — I love him. 

Rodd. (Sits l. of Winifred ) My dear Wini- 
fred, you must be guided by me. You have no 
character. (Sob) No strength. (She sobs) No 
will! (Sob) You don't really know what you 
want. (Sob) How should you? Grafton can give 

you position (Winifred sobs on all above 

cues) 

Winifred. But I don't love him. 

Rodd. All marriages are not for love. (Looks 
over to Mrs. Rodd ) Still the world goes on. You 
must think. You must weigh things. 

Winifred. I don't want to weigh things. 

Rodd. This young fanatic has nothing — not a 
thing. 

Winifred. You can give us all we want. 

Rodd. (Rises to c.) Oh, but I won't! Not 
likely ! Oh, no ! Give you all you want, indeed ! 
Nothing of the kind ! 

Winifred. Father! -(Weeps) 

Rodd. (c.) You can't weep that out of me. 
Whoever marries you must take care of you with- 
out help from me. 

Winifred. You would not do anything for 
us? 

Rodd. No. Not a thing. Certainly not. Be- 
sides, just now I couldn't. (Winifred looks up 
surprised. Mrs. Rodd starts) There you have it. 
Positively couldn't. Money's heavy and iron's light 
these days. (To Mrs. Rodd ) There you have it. 
Just for a while, my dear, we'll have to retrench. 
For a bit — retrench, (c.) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Rising) Retrench? 

Rodd. Cheerless little word. But there it is — 
retrench, retrench, retrench! But it's only tem- 
porary, of course. We must — retrench. We'll pull 
through. (To Winifred ) Grafton can give you 
everything, everything. And — a — he can also help 



20 THE WOOING OF EVE 

me — help me considerably. You see, my dear, things 
have not gone very well with me of late. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Walks down to l. of Rodd. Bit- 
terly) Don't tell me that you are stripped of the one 
thing that made you attractive. 

Rodd. Attractive ? The one thing ? 

Mrs. Rodd. Your money. 

Rodd. My dear, don't say that. I 

(Enter Walkley, a young, pretty, active maid) 

Walkley. Mr. Parriscourt. (Mrs. Rodd crosses 
L. and sits armchair. Winifred rises and crosses 
r. to above ottoman) 

(Enter Parriscourt, carrying a small blue-and-gold 
volume. Exit Walkley c.) 

Parriscourt. How do you do, Mr. Rodd? 
Dreary day it's been, hasn't it? But the fog's lifted, 
the sun's coming out. (Rodd goes to r. by desk) 
It will shine on the bride. I haven't been long, have 
I ? Here's the little volume. Each verse was wrung 
from me — positively wrung. (Winifred sobs) 
You'll love them. (He hands Winifred the book) 

W'inifred. (Faintly) Thank you ! (Drops the 
book) 

Parriscourt. (Picks it up, dusts it, straightens 
corner) Oh, I've autographed it and marked sev- 
eral of them. The "Ode to an Aching Heart" is 
quite my best work. It will make you suffer to 
read it. 

Winifred. Thank you. (Rodd rises to R. of 
ottoman) 

Parriscourt. Really it will. 

Rodd. I'm sure it will. (Rodd takes Winifred 
up to desk r. The.y turn away from Parriscourt 
and talk together) 

Parriscourt. (To Roddj I'm afraid I'm in the 
way. Good-bye, Mrs. Rodd! Winifred! I'll see 



THE WOOING OF EVE 21 

you all to-morrow after the ceremony. (Winifred 

sobs) 

(Enter Bates with a lady's travelling valise and 
a number of bouquets, etc. He leaves the door 
open. Bates crosses to door L. Midway Mrs. 
Rodd halts him.) 

Mrs. Rodd. What are you doing? 

Bates. Flowers for the lady. 

Mrs. Rodd. What lady? 

Bates. The lady who called this morning, 
Madam. 

Mrs. Rodd. What was her name? 

Bates. I didn't quite catch the name. (Picks 
up valise front l. of d. door) This has just been 
sent for her, too. (Looking around) I thought she 
was here. 

Mrs. Rodd. Why? 

Bates. I shozved her in here — oh, quite some 
time ago. (Rodd rises and crosses up r.c.) 

Mrs. Rodd. You showed someone in here with- 
out knowing who she was ? 

Bates. Well, Madam, you see, it's only my sec- 
ond day 

Mrs. Rodd. (Crosses r. quickly) Take those 
things away. 

Bates. Yes, madam. (Moves to doors c.) 

Rodd. (Stopping him) Was the lady's name 
Alver stone? 

Bates. (Trying to remember) It might have 
been. 

Rodd. Find out where she is. Look for her. 
Bring her here. 

Bates. Certainly, sir. (Goes out c, leaving va- 
lise l. of doors. Parriscourt crosses up c.l.J 

Mrs. Rodd. (Rises) Where did you find that 
man? 

Rodd. He was very well recommended. 



22 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Mrs. Rodd. I'll get rid of him after the wed- 
ding. (Indignantly turning to Parriscourt J 

Parriscourt. (Acknowledges it) Ah! (Mrs. 
Rodd crosses to r.c. Winifred crosses l to c. and 
then to r. of Parriscourt and sits back of seat, 
t.C.J 

Mrs. Rodd. (Crosses to r. and moves angrily 
about — up r. to window) Where is she? Roaming 
about the house ? Ugh ! (Furiously walking 
around) Oh ! (Sits on chesterfield. A faint 
scream is heard. Mrs. Rodd jumps up. Eve rises 
on her elbow on the chesterfield, where she has evi- 
dently been in a sound sleep. All look at her in 
amazement. She rubs her eyes, straightens her hat, 
and slowly looks from one to the other, stifling a 
yawn) 

Rodd. Eve ! 

Eve. (Rises) Hello, Uncle! Who sat on me? 
Did you sit on me ? . 

Rodd. No. 

Eve. (To Mrs. Rodd J I suppose you sat on me. 
(Looks at her zvrist watch) What time is it ? Why, 
I've been asleep an hour! (Rises and stretches. 
Sees Winifred) Why, Winifred ! (Embraces her, 
then holds her at arm's length and looks at her crit- 
ically) My dear, you've grown into a woman. She 
needs fresh air. She must ride in the park with me 
to-morrow, Uncle. 

Rodd. Well, well 

Eve. (Winifred cries) Why is she crying, 
Uncle? 

Rodd. (Introducing) My wife. 

Eve. Does she sit on her, too? 

Rodd. No, no! (To Mrs. Rodd,) This is my 
niece, Miss Alverstone. 

Eve. (Turning to Mrs. Roddj How do you do, 
Mrs. Rodd? I must own I was curious to meet 
you. I hope we'll be friends, even though you did 



THE WOOING OF EVE 23 

sit on me at our first meeting. (Shakes hands. Sees 
Parriscourt, who makes an exclamation) 

Parriscourt. Oh ! 

Eve. Who is that beautiful man? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Coldly) Mr. Parriscourt. Miss 
— Miss 

Eve. Alverstone. 

Mrs. Rodd. Miss Alverstone. ("Parriscourt 
bozus) 

Eve. (Going to him, l.) Not the poet, Cyril 
Dallas Rokeby Parriscourt? 

Parriscourt. (Pleased. Eagerly) Yes, yes. 
(Kisses both her hands) 

Eve. Does that make you think you're a French- 
man? 

(Enter Walkley c.) 

Walkley. Mr. Livingstone calling on Miss Al- 
verstone. 

Eve. (Gives a mate of amusement ) Mr. Liv- 
ingstone? Oh! (To W'alkleyJ I'll ring. 

Walkley. Yes, madam. (Goes out c, closing 
doors c.) 

Eve. (To Rodd J Mr. Livingstone is a great 
admirer of mine. He's an American. I collected 
hirn on my travels. He has followed me from city 
to city, from country to country, with a great deal 
of zeal and absolutely no discretion — in fact, he 
doesn't know what the word discretion means. His 
calling here to-day is an example. (To Mrs. Rodd, 
and then to Roddj Have you made arrangements 
for me to stay here? 

Rodd. (Very uncomfortable) Well — as a mat- 
ter of fact — we 

Eve. (Turning to Mrs. Rodd,) Inconvenient? 
Right! May I make this house my headquarters? 

Rodd. Well, you see (Pause) 

Eve. Oh ! That's inconvenient, too. Well, Mrs. 



24 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Rodd, may I put you to a small inconvenience? 
(Crosses to Mrs. Rodd, d.rJ Mr. Livingstone is 
downstairs. Would you mind my seeing him up 
here? I wouldn't like him to feel slighted. (Wini- 
fred and Rodd back up by wall table) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Rise) All right! (Looks at her 
very coldly) I'm very sorry I didn't know sooner 
that you were coming. I might have been able to in- 
clude you in some of my engagements. (Crosses- 
below ottoman to c. doors. Parriscourt has antici- 
pated her and is holding doors open) 

Eve. Don't worry, Mrs. Rodd, I'll see all I wish 
to while I'm in London, (Exit Mrs. Rodd J and 
(catching sight of Parriscourt ,) miss all I want to 
miss in London. (Eve looks with uplifted eyebrows 
at Rodd) 

Parriscourt. Ahem ! Good-bye, Mr. Rodd ! 
Miss Winifred ! Good afternoon, Miss — Miss 

Eve. Alverstone. You'll find it quite easy to 
remember when you've met me a few times. 

Parriscourt. I've no doubt. (Bows and passes 
out) 

Eve. He looks just like his poems. Winifred, 
come here, I want to have a long, serious talk to you. 

Winifred. You tell her, father — I can't. (Win- 
ifred crosses to l. and exits) 

Eve. What can't she tell me? 

Rodd. (c.r.,) My dear Eve, you've come among 
us at a surprisingly opportune time. She marries 
to-morrow. 

Eve. (l.cJ Marries? Winifred? Oh, dear! 
At her age man should be forbidden fruit, and mar- 
riage a nursery legend. Is he any good? 

Rodd. Of the best blood in England. 

Eve. Dear, dear! I thought you had given up 
valuing by blood. Is he rich ? 

Rodd. Yes. Ha, ha ! (Laughs hollowly) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 25 

Eve. Ah! I see. Best blood, and very rich. 
Oh, Uncle, what, what, what ! ( Rodd laughs) Does 
she love him? 

Rodd. (Hesitates) He loves her. 

Eve. Well, perhaps that's more to the point. 
Who is he? (Enter Walkley, c.) Well! 

Walkley. Mr. Livingstone desires me to ask if 
it would be more convenient if he were to call later? 

Eve. Not at all. Don't let him get away. Oh, 
there's my bag! (Seeing bag inside door. To 
Walkley) Count eighty. ( Walkley goes out c.) 
Count a hundred and eighty. (Calling after her. 
Rodd starts to go) Don't go, Uncle. I want you 
to meet Mr. Livingstone. (Brings bag down l. on 
seat. Takes up bag and extracts mirror) Please 
hold that. fRoDD holds mirror while she powders 
herself and re-arranges her hair. As she powders) 
I wonder what my ancestress did without powder. 
How did she ever catch Adam ? 

Rodd. Mark Twain said she stoned him. 

Eve. Of course, firearms were not invented 
then. She could not have used powder or shot. She 
used chalk for her nose, I expect. Dabbed it on 
with moss. 

Rodd. Why don't we adopt that very sensible 
habit, powdering one's nose? 

Eve. It's masculine conceit — to think they can 
outshine a shiny nose. (Laughs. Rodd laughs) 
Poor little Winnie ! Marrying to-morrow. It makes 
me feel quite old. 

Rodd. Why haven't you married? 

Eve. Ah ! Remember, Uncle. Remember the 
real epicure is the one who abstains. There ! (Hur- 
riedly putting things away) Thank you so much, 
Uncle ! Sweet of you. 

Rodd. Would you mind, Eve? (He arranges 
his tie in mirror) 



26 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Eve. Want powder, Uncle? (Rodd shakes his 
head and smiles) 

(Enter Walkley, c.J 

Walkley. Mr. Livingstone. 
Eve. All right. (Exit Walkley, c.) You'll be 
just crazy about him, Uncle. 

(Enter at door c. Brice Livingstone, a genial, pol- 
ished, travelled American of about 7,6. He is a 
slender, muscular man, with the lithe, active 
frame of an athlete. In manner he is easy, 
positive, deferential, and humorous by turns. 
Assertive among men, diplomatic among zvomen. 
The type of man who is ready to take his part 
in any emergency, quarrelsome or amorous.) 

Eve. (Nervously) How do? 

Livingstone. (Also a bit nervous) How do? 
(Shakes hands with Eve J 'Fraid I butted in — dis- 
turbed — that is (Glancing at RoddJ 

Eve. (h.c.) You have not — butted in. Uncle, 
this is Mr. Livingstone. (Introducing) My uncle 
—Mr. Rodd. 

Livingstone, (c. Starts at the name of Rodd 
and recovers some of his self-possession) Rodd? 
Not John Rodd, by any chance? 

Rodd. (Stiffly) That is my name. 

Livingstone. (Crossing to him) "The Iron 
King?" 

Rodd. I am interested in iron. 

Livingstone. (Laughing heartily, and taking 
Rodd's unwilling hand) I'm glad to shake you by 
the hand, sir. (Laughs) Ha, ha ! I've been caught 
in one or two of your deals lately. ("Rodd pulls away 
his hand) Not out of the wood yet, are you? 

Rodd. What ? 

Livingstone. (Laughing softly) Say, I made 



THE WOOING OF EVE 27 

the "Rodd" for my own back when I went into iron, 
didn't I? 

Rodd. My name is good to-day. 

Livingstone. Sure, it is. But will it be to- 
morrow? 

Rodd. Yes, sir. It will. 

Livingstone. Glad to hear it. I'm in iron up 
to my neck. 

Rodd. (Goes to doors c.) Good day to you, sir. 

Livingstone. (Up R.) I'm delighted to have 
met you. You send the blood through my veins 
again. I had begun to lose faith ii. my own judg- 
ment. 

Rodd. (At door) If you can't face a drop in 
prices you'd better keep out of the market. (To 
Eve ) I want to see you before you go, Eve. 

Eve. I'll run in to-morrow. 

Rodd. The wedding is at noon. (Exits c.) 

Eve. (Laughing) That's a fine beginning you've 
made. I told him he'd be crazy about you. He is, 
too. I think he must be crazy about you. I'm sure 
he is. (Sits l. armchair) 

Livingstone. Poor old chap! (d.l.c.,) 

Eve. (Amazed) Poor — old — chap? What do 
you mean? 

Livingstone. (Nods gravely) He is up against 
it and no mistake. 

Eve. Is he really in trouble? 

Livingstone. I should just think he is. But 
he'll weather it. He's so strong and as full of re- 
sistance as his own iron. 

Eve. (Thoughtfully) I'm glad I've come here 
— very glad. 

Livingstone. Are you? 

Eve. Yes, I am. 

Livingstone. Is it in any way connected with 
me? 

Eve. No. Not at all. 



28 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Livingstone. Oh, I just hoped it was. (Pause) 
I've made up my mind to take a very serious step 
next fall, and I want to consult you about it. 

Eve. Indeed ? 

Livingstone. Yes. (Pause) Marry. 

Eve. Eh? 

Livingstone. Marry. (Pause) What do you 
think ? 

Eve. Oh, marriage is a thing I never think of. 

Livingstone. Well, just think a little now. 

Eve. If you wish to marry why consult anyone? 

Livingstone. It's an arrangement of two, you 
know. 

Eve. So IVe heard. 

Livingstone. I'm only one. 

Eve. So I see. 

Livingstone. I want you to help me out. 

Eve. Can I? 

Livingstone. You can. 

Eve. How ? 

Livingstone. Marriage is a thing / never 
thought about until I met you. Nozv I think of 
nothing else. 

Eve. How sad! (She laughs) 

Livingstone. What do you think all my atten- 
tion to you has meant? 

Eve. Just ordinary courtesy. 

Livingstone. Nothing of the sort! (Pause) 
Wooing. 

Eve. (Laughing) W T hat? 

Livingstone. Wooing. 

Eve. (Laughing) Wooing? 

Livingstone. Yes, wooing. 

Eve. (Laughs) I love that word. (Laughs) 

Livingstone. (Sits above seat r. of EveJ I 
want you to marry me. 

Eve. I'm sorry. 

Livingstone. Why? Don't you like me? 



THE WOOING OF EVE 29 

Eve. Oh, yes, I rather like you, or I wouldn't 
have allowed you to — I wouldn't have allowed you 
to 

Livingstone. Woo you? 

Eve. (Laughs) Yes, woo me. I do love that 
word. Is that what you've been doing all this time ? 

Livingstone. Certainly it is. 

Eve. Fancy that ! And I didn't recognize it. 

Livingstone. We've known each other six 
months. 

Eve. I've known you. 

Livingstone. I've followed you half round the 
world. 

Eve. Yes. It was not altogether my fault, was 
it? 

Livingstone. And you've given me to under- 
stand I'm not altogether distasteful to you. 

Eve. Yes, of course. 

Livingstone. Do you like someone else better? 

Eve. Not at the moment. 

Livingstone. Well, then, what's the trouble? 

Eve. My dear Mr. Livingstone 

Livingstone. (Protesting) No. No. 

Eve. My dear Mr. Livingstone, one of the chief 
characteristics of our very remarkable people is that 
we like everything at first hand— news— houses- 
furniture — and — women. 

Livingstone. That's true. 

Eve. I'm second-hand, and not eligible. 

Livingstone. (Aghast) Second-hand? (Rises. 
She nods) How's that ? 

Eve. I've been in love. 

Livingstone. Have you ? (Relieved) So have 
I. But, after all, what has that to do with it? 

Eve. Mine was rather serious. 

Livingstone. Mine is very serious — now. (Sits 
R. of Eve on front of seat) 

Eve. Oh ! 



30 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Livingstone. How long ago? 

Eve. Years. 

Livingstone. How many? 

Eve. Oh, years and years. I was a girl then. 

Livingstone. It must have been years. Two, 
eh? 

Eve. No. Five. 

Livingstone. (Musing) Oh! Very much in 
love? 

Eve. (Nods) Very, very much. 

Livingstone. Engaged ? 

Eve. Not quite. On the brink. Tottering. 

Livingstone. What broke it off? 

Eve. The old Adam that lies deep in all men's 
natures. He gave me my first glimpse of the abys- 
mal brute. Enlightening, but unpleasant ! (Shivers 
and gives) a little moue of disgust at the remem- 
brance) 

Livingstone. American ? 

Eve. (Shakes her head) No. English. 

Livingstone. Anyone who'd treat you badly is 
an ass. 

Eve. You're a nice man, Mr. Livingstone. 

Livingstone. Where is he? 

Eve. I don't know. 

Livingstone. Really? 

Eve. Really. 

Livingstone. Haven't you written to him? 

Eve. No. 

Livingstone. (Pleased) Didn't you hear from 
him? 

Eve. No. I haven't written to him. I haven't 
heard from him, and I don't know where he is. 

Livingstone. (With great satisfaction) A real 
quarrel, eh? 

Eve. (Nods) I quarrelled. (Laughs) He said 
nothing. You see, he was English. (Muses) What 
a long time ago it seems ! I was just a spoilt child 



THE WOOING OF EVE 31 

then. I'd never been denied anything. So when I 
first met him I fancied him, singled him out, and 
went after him. (Smiling) My parents showed 
great foresight when they christened me "Eve." I 
was very "Eve"-y, as a girl. 

Livingstone. Were you? 

Eve. Very. I know much better now. 

Livingstone. Do you? 

Eve. Oh, very much better. You would be sur- 
prised. 

Livingstone. (Embarrassed and protesting) 
I've always thought Eve must have been a very nice 
sort of person. (Eve laughs) She looks it in her 
pictures. 

Eve. _ The long-haired "it" as a famous writer 
one called her, — the long-haired "it." (Shakes her 
head) It's a silly old story. I mean the Adam and 
Eve one. It ended so miserably. Like mine. 

Livingstone. But you didn't marry him. 

Eve. She didn't either, did she? (He acknozvl- 
edges it) But I would have. He had only to ask 
me. I was clay in his hands. And I was absolutely 
happy. (Thinks a moment) What a long time ago 
it seems ! Oh, those days ! I used to stay with his 
mother weeks at a time. Our mutual bond was mu- 
sic. He would play in the great hall, and I would 
lie in a hammock on the lawn, listen, and dream. 
Wonderful dreams, too ! And he was in all of them. 
(Livingstone has turned a little away from her. 
Pause) Are you interested? 

Livingstone. Yes, I am. 

Eve. One day, half in a spirit of mischief, I 
promised to join him in celebrating a Chopin anni- 
versary — at night, when the house was still. What 
a little fool I was in those days ! I wonder if I'd 
do it now. (Laughs uneasily) Of course I wouldn't. 
If I hadn't gone that night! Oh, if I hadn't gone. 
There was no reason why we could not have cele- 



32 THE WOOING OF EVE 

brated Chopin by daylight. But, no. I insisted. It 
had to be night. It seemed more wonderful — more 
mysterious. So I went. There were no other guests 
in the house. When he was restless he would often 
play half through the night. He would that night 
— in honour of the Master's birthday. And he 
would play nothing but Chopin. We would talk of 
nothing but his wonderful music — breathing passion, 
calling for love. Night came. Everyone was asleep 
except Adam and Eve. I followed the path that led 
past, curiously enough, the apple trees, that led to 
his room. He was waiting for me. No king ever 
received a queen with greater homage and respect. 
He began to play — and how he could play. Music, 
the most insidious of all sensuous arts, at night a 
thousand times more so. Music, that whispers 
through the dark, and moans through the stillness. 
It whispered to him — finally mastered him. Then 
he made the one mistake that changed both our lives. 
I saw behind the artist-musician the Darwinian ani- 
mal with bloodshot eyes and outstretched claws. I 
heard the coarse surging rush of passion. In that 
moment disillusion came. My girlhood vanished. I 
was astonished, frightened, ashamed. Out of a 
little window flew love, and in its place came that 
most dangerous feeling for woman to feel towards 
man — disgust. I showed it so plainly that the ani- 
mal became once more the man of intellect and 
breeding. Silently he helped me with my cloak. 
Silently he walked with me to the end of the path- 
way. Silently he turned, and disappeared out of my 
life. I've never seen him since. (Livingstone 
makes exclamation. Eve sighs, looking straight be- 
fore her; rises and goes to c. Turns to him) So 
you see, Mr. Livingstone, I'm not eligible. 

Livingstone. (Has watched her as she moved to 
c. Impressively) I am just as sure in my mind of 
every moment, of your past, as I am of your future. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 33 

There are some women who could do no wrong. 
You are one of them. 

Eve. (Repeats) "There are some women who 
could do no wrong. You are one of them." I like 
that. It shows faith. Where did you get it ? 

Livingstone. I don't know. It just came to me. 
You made me think of it. 

Eve. Did I? You should always think in word 
pictures. (Sits r. of him) After all, English is a 
beautiful language if you take time to put the proper 
words in the proper place, isn't it ? 

Livingstone. Yep. (Conscious of the fact that 
he is using slang) 

Eve. (Laughs) Because we are American is no 
reason our vocabulary should be limited to "Gee 
whiz," "On the level," "G'wan," "Beat it," "Come 
across," is it? 

Livingstone. (Thinks) "Butted in." (Both 
laugh) But you can use them sometimes, can't you ? 
(Laughs) 

Eve. (Pause) On Sundays and public holidays. 
I do like big words. 

Livingstone. Do you? 

Eve. I know a lot of big words. (He looks at 
her) I have a collection of years. I'll teach you. 

Livingstone. Gee! I wish you would. 

Eve. Wouldn't it be grand ? 

Livingstone. Elegant! (Both laugh) 

Eve. Seriously ; I love big words. You know, 
nice, long, colourful ones with lots of syllables. I 
think I learnt them from him. (Rises to c.r.J Oh, 
the word pictures he could paint ! (Sighs) 

Livingstone. (Rises, goes l. of her, watching 
her closely and speaking over her shoulder) I be- 
lieve you care for him still. Are you sure you don't 
love him? 

Eve. Yes . . . quite sure. (Enter Walkley c. 
Stands c.) What is it? 



34 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Walkley. Is Miss Rodd here? 

Eve. No, she's in her room. (Walkley crosses 
l.J Will you ask Miss Rodd to come here ? 

Walkley. But Sir Philip Grafton's calling on 
Miss Rodd. 

Eve. Sir Philip Grafton? (She grows white to 
the lips, her eyes look out beyond Livingstone into 
the past) 

Walkley. Yes, ma'am. (Crosses to door l. and 
exits) 

Eve. (To Livingstone) Sir Philip Grafton ! 

Livingstone. To-morrow's bridegroom. 

Eve. (In horror and amazement) What? Sir 
Philip Grafton to marry my cousin? 

Livingstone. Yes. Didn't you know? 

Eve. No. Sir Philip Grafton going to marry 
Winifred! (Re-enter Walkley l.) Ask Sir 
Philip to come here first. 

Walkley. YcS, madam. (Exit c.) 

Eve. Would you mind going now, please? 

(R.C.) 

Livingstone. Don't send me out without a little 
hope. If you tried very hard don't you think you 
could like me just a little? 

Eve. I do like you a little. (She laughs) 

Livingstone. Please let me wait for you down- 
stairs. 

Eve. Yes, but don't speak of marriage again. 

(Door opens and Sir Philip Grafton enters. He 
is an elegantly built, polished man of thirty- 
eight with finely chisselled features and a grave, 
earnest manner. Everything about him sug- 
gests the aristocrat, from his tasteful, subdued 
attire to the careful modulations of his voice. 
He is prematurely old and careworn. A thin 
line of silver runs through his hair and there 
are deep shadows beneath his eyes) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 35 

Livingstone. (Meeting him in doorway and 
shaking hands cheerfully) How de do? 

Sir Philip. (Up c. in doorway. Surprised) 
My dear Livingstone! This is a pleasure. 

Livingstone. We meet to-night. 

Sir Philip. Indeed? 

Livingstone. Yes. I met Berkeley in Picca- 
dilly, and he invited me to your farewell supper. 

Sir Philip. I'm delighted. 

Livingstone. Your last night of freedom, eh? 
(Laughs) 

Sir Philip. (Laughs with him) Yes. 

Livingstone. Till to-night ! 

Sir Philip. Good-bye ! 

Livingstone. (To Eve) I'll be downstairs. 
(Goes out l., closing doors. Sir Philip walks 
down l.c. and sees Eve. He stands looking at her 
in astonishment) 

Sir Philip. Eve! 

Eve. (By l. of ottoman) Hello, Philip! 

Sir Philip, (c.l.) Eve! (Long, awkward 
pause) Where have you come from ? 

Eve. (Smiles and nods upward) From up there. 
Dropped down. 

Sir Philip. (After a little pause) You look 
well — and happy. 

Eve. I'm well. (Looking scrutinizingly at him) 
Why, you're grey ! 

Sir Philip. (Smiling) Oh, no. 

Eve. Yes, you are. 

Sir Philip. No, really? 

Eve. Well, a little. 

Sir Philip. Perhaps a little. 

Eve. Are you really going to marry Winifred 
to-morrow ? 

Sir Philip. Yes. 

Eve. Why ? 

Sir Philip. Because I love her, I suppose. 



3 6 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Eve. Do you ? 

Sir Philip. Yes. 

Eve. She's rather young, isn't she ? 

Sir Philip. That doesn't last, unfortunately. 

Eve. You haven't taken long to forget me, have 
you? 

Sir Philip. Five years. 

Eve. (Quickly) Then you had forgotten me? 

Sir Philip. I meant I haven't seen you for five 
years. 

Eve. It's very curious, but I never thought of 
you marrying, somehow. (Goes to front of otto- 
man and sits) 

Sir Philip. (Crosses to her) Are you married? 

Eve. No. 

Sir Philip. Oh ! 

Eve. No. I'm still roaming about loose. 

Sir Philip. (Smiles) How very extraordi- 
nary ! 

Eve. Of course I haven't been altogether neg- 
lected. I've had a few nibbles. But they didn't 
amount to much. I'm very exacting. 

Sir Philip. You used to be. 

Eve. I am still. So you are marrying Wini- 
fred tomorrow ! Well, so long as it's in the family ! 
My cousin 

Sir Philip. (Astonished) Your cousin? Wini- 
fred, your cousin? 

Eve. Yes, of course. Didn't you know? 

Sir Philip. No. 

Eve. Didn't she mention me? 

Sir Philip. Never. 

Eve. Didn't you tell her about me? 

Sir Philip. (Shakes his head evasively) No. 

Eve. Why not? Were you ashamed of me? 

Sir Philip. Whenever I've thought of you I've 
been ashamed of myself. 

Eve. Then you have thought of me? 



THE WOOING OF EVE 37 

Sir Philip. (Nods) Yes. Have you — of me? 
(Site l. of Eve) 
Eve. Often. 
Sir Philip. Gently? 
Eve. Yes. 

Sir Philip. Without bitterness ? 
Eve. With very little. 
Sir Philip. Then time has softened your an- 

2 er? 

Eve. I could never stay angry very long, it you 

remember. 

Sir Philip. I was very foolish then. Perhaps 
you understand better now. It was the look in your 
eyes, a tone in your voice, the faint breath of your 
perfume, the touch of your hand, and the vibrating 
melody of Chopin beating through it all. 

Eve. (Very softly) Please don't, Philip. 

Sir Philip. (Rises) You shrank from me in 
horror. Your words cut me to the quick. Your 
look burnt into my heart. When you left me, I was 
wretched, wretched. (Moves a step) 

Eve. (After a pause) How long have you known 
Winifred? 

Sir Philip. A few months. 

Eve. And you really love her ? 

Sir Philip. Yes. 

Eve. That's very curious. 

Sir Philip. Oh, no. It's not curious. (Looks 
at Eve ) Do you know, at times she is very like you 
were — then. 

Eve. Like me? You make me laugh. How ri- 
diculous ! I never cry. Like me! You always had 
a wonderful imagination. 

Sir Philip. She likes beautiful things, too. Yes, 
she often reminds me of you. 

Eve. (Rises) Oh, don't say that — don't be ab- 
surd ! Ha ! Like me ! (Moving restlessly about) 
I think it's a perfectly nonsensical marriage. 



38 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. (Rising) Don't say that. 
Eve. I don't know what you want to marry for 
at all. (Moves to, front of armchair) I haven't. 
(Sits in armchair, r. Pause) 

Sir Philip. Neither Winifred nor I have had 
much happiness. 

Eve. And neither of you is going to. You are 
not a bit suited to each other. 

Sir Philip. (With slight change of tone. Sits 
on end of ottoman, facing Eve) Don't you think 
we are the best judges? 

Eve. No, I don't. You're much too old for her. 
It takes a woman of great intelligence to understand 
you. You're only marrying her because she's young, 
and you're tired of going about alone. 

Sir Philip. I am very tired of going about 
alone. 

Eve. It's a perfectly stupid marriage. (Crosses 
at back to c.l.) 

Sir Philip. (Crosses in front to c. Smiles) 
You haven't changed much. You always wanted to 
interfere in things, didn't you? 

Eve. I'd like to interfere in this, believe me. My 
uncle has no right to allow it. (Suddenly) Why 
didn't you tell Winifred — about me? 

Sir Philip. I didn't think it necessary. 

Eve. Well, I do. 

Sir Philip. What? 

Eve. You and Winifred! It's perfectly disgust- 
ing. 

Sir Philip. Please don't interfere, Eve. You 
would only disturb her mind. 

Eve. Well, what are you going to do with her 
mind if you marry her? You and Winifred! It's 
monstrous ! I shouldn't want to come to the house 
-again if I thought I should have to meet you — mar- 
ried to Winifred. 

Sir Philip. Why not? (Enter Walkley) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 39 

Walkley. Mr. Rodd wishes to see you in his 
study, sir. 

Sir Philip. Very well. (Exit maid. Goes to 
Eve) Will you be at the wedding to-morrow? 

Eve. No. Don't ask me to see you married. 

Sir Philip. Why not? 

Eve. Because 

Sir Philip. Then we shall not meet again? 

Eve. No. I never want to see you again. 

Sir Philip. Won't you at least wish me happi- 
ness? (Hands out) 

Eve. No. Because you're not going to be happy 
married to Winifred. 

Sir Philip. (Pause) Well ! Happiness to you, 
Eve ! (Puts his hand out. Eve does not take it) 
Good-bye! (Up to c. doors) 

Eve. (Up to him, l. of doors) Oh, Philip! Of 
course I wish you all the happiness in the world. 
Really, I do. 

Sir Philip. Thank you! (Goes out looking 
steadily at Eve, and closing doors slowly) 

Eve. (Stands thinking a moment, then moves 
restlessly about. Winifred enters at door l.) 
Winifred, come here! Tell me something. What 
do you mean by making Sir Philip fall in love with 
you? 

Winifred. I didn't make him. He just did it. 
I didn't want him to. 

Eve. (Suspiciously) Are you sure? 

Winifred. Indeed I am. 

Eve. You didn't follow him about? Get in his 
way so that he'd notice you ? Look" languishingly 
at him? Brighten up when he came in, and sigh 
when he went away? (Winifred shakes her head 
with increasing intensity to the progressive ques- 
tions) Honor bright ? 

Winifred. On the contrary, I always avoided 
him. 



40 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Eve. Avoided him? 

Winifred. Always. 

Eve. Oh, indeed! Avoided him! Who taught 
you that ? Where did you meet him ? 

Winifred. (Goes to her) Father brought him 
here. 

Eve. And you straightway fell in love with each 
other ? 

Winifred, (c.) / didn't. 

Eve. Oh! You didn't? 

Winifred. No. 

Eve. Then what are you marrying him tomor- 
row for? 

Winifred. Because it's my father's wish. 

Eve. (Eagerly) Don't you wish it? 

Winifred. Indeed I don't. I don't want to 
marry him — I never wanted to marry him. I hate 
him. I hate him. 

Eve. That's right. You go on hating him. I 
wouldn't think of letting you marry a man like Sir 
Philip. 

Winifred. Oh, I'm so glad. 

Eve. I'll convince your father that he's not in 
the least worthy of you. 

Winifred. (Sobbing) That won't be of any 
use. His mind is made up. (Goes to Eve) 

Eve. Then he's got to change it. 

Winifred. Nothing will change it — now. (Cry- 
ing on Eve's right shoulder) 

Eve. My dear child (Breaks off) Don't 

cry any more on this shoulder, anyway, it's quite 
damp. Come over on the other if you must cry. 
(Winifred half smiles, and stops crying — just sobs) 
When you are as old as I am you will know that 
there is one thing in England today that will move 
mountains, and it isn't faith! It's scandal! 

Winifred. (Quickly looking at her) Scandal? 

Eve. No business man likes it in his family. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 41 

Well, I'll make such a scandal between now and to- 
morrow morning that your father will be glad to 
stop the marriage in sheer self-defence. 

Winifred. (Brightening) Will you? 

Eve. I will. What in the world does he want 
you to marry him at all for ? 

Winifred. You won't tell anyone? 

Eve. Oh, it's something like that? 

Winifred. Promise. 

Eve. I promise. (Sits l.) 

Winifred. (On seat r. of armchair) I think 
my father is in trouble. 

Eve. And Sir Philip is going to help him ? 

Winifred. I think so. 

Eve. (Meditatively) Oh! I see. (Rises) It's 
a business transaction ? 

Winifred. (Nods) I think it is. 

Eve. Well, I'm going to spoil that transaction. 

Winifred. Can you help met 

Eve. I intend to. I wouldn't think of it. I suf- 
fered when I was just about your age. (Winifred 
looks up at her) 

Winifred. You did? 

Eve. Yes. I did. 

Winifred. A man? 

Eve. Of course it was a man. 

Winifred. Oh, tell me, what was he like? 

Eve. (Sits r. of Winifred on small ottoman) 
He was very like Sir Phiilp. 

Winifred. Oh, was he? 

Eve. Very. Only he was younger. 

Winifred. He is old, isn't he? 

Eve. Oh, I don't know. Much too old for you, 
of course. 

Winifred. Much. 

Eve. What kind of lover is he now ? 

Winifred. (Looks and says) Now? 
•' Eve. I mean, what kind of lover is he? 



42 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Winifred. (Shivers) Oh, don't! 

Eve. Oh! That kind! 

Winifred. I never let him make love to me. 

Eve. What ? 

Winifred. (Decidedly) I hate to be alone with 
him. 

Eve. Oh, does he talk much? 

Winifred. Sometimes. 

Eve. Great big words? 

Winifred. (Surprised) Yes. How do you 
know? 

Eve. (Hurriedly evading the question) Oh, lots 
of them make love that way, you know. Conversa- 
tionally. (Winifred turns away) Some of them 
play the piano, too. 

Winifred. He does. 

Eve. Does he play well ? 

Winifred. Oh, yes, very ! The only times I 
ever liked him at all were when he played to me. 
(Turns head away) 

Eve. (Quite carelessly) Chopin, I suppose. 
They all play Chopin to — to — very young girls. 

Winifred. No. Elgar. 

Eve. Elgar ? Oh, really ! Not "Pomp and Cir- 
cumstance" ? (Winifred nods) Fashions change, 
even in music. Has he always — behaved him- 
self? 

Winifred. Always. 

Eve. He is not an ardent lover? 

Winifred. Oh, no. Quite cold. 

Eve. Dear me ! He must be old. 

Winifred. Old? 

Eve. Cold. 

Winifred. He is. 

Eve. Dear me! (Whimsically, her eyes dancing 
with mischief) It must have been an amazing court- 
ship. (Laughs) You resisted even big words, and 
Elgar, and froze him ! You're a remarkable child. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 43 

Really, you are. / couldn't have — at your age. 
(Confidentially) Tell me, haven't you been in love 
yet, eh? 

Winifred. (Nods roguishly) Yes. 

Eve. Are you in love now ? Oh, who is he ? 

Winifred. Harry. 

Eve. Harry? Harry what? 

Winifred. Warrender. 

Eve. Harry Warrender ! Sounds rather nice. 

Winifred. The Reverend Harry Warrender. 

Eve. Oh ! That sounds more chilling. 

Winifred. (Hurriedly ) He isn't. 

Eve. Well, of course, you ought to know. (Wini- 
fred nods) Very much in love with him? 

Winifred. (Crying) Oh, very much. 

Eve. Oh, you don't cry about that, too? 

Winifred. Yes. 

Eve. (Laughs) Does your father know? 

Winifred. (Crying) Yes. But Harry will be 
quite poor for a while, and 

Eve. — and the rich baronet came along, and 
Papa made a bee-line for him ? 

Winifred. (Sadly) Yes. 

Eve. Well, I'll look Harry over, and if he meets 

with my approval (Winifred looks up at her 

expectantly) I'll see what can be done. (Rise) But 
the first thing to be done is to free you from the 
big-worded, piano-playing baronet. 

Winifred. (Following her) I would like to 
know how you are going to do it? 

Eve. I am going to aim at the weakest point in 
John Rodd's constitution. 

Winifred. How ? 

Eve. (Looking about) Where's that old dag- 
ger you always used to have lying around ? The one 
with the Rodd motto carved on it? "Let no dis- 
honor stain me." Eh? (By table) Here it is. 
(Picks dagger up from table r.) 



44 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Winifred. (Alarmed) You won't do anything 

dreadful? 

Eve. (Recklessly, her eyes dancing) Anything! 
(Looking at inscription on knife) That's my uncle's 
weakest point — dishonor. (Stabs at the air) I am 
going to stab it. 

Winifred. Oh, but — I think I'd rather marry 
the man. 

Eve. (Laughs) Dry your eyes and let your nose 
cool down. By tomorrow you'll be a care- free child 
again. I am going to see Sir Philip tonight. (c.R.) 

Winifred. See Sir Philip? Where? 

Eve. I don't know. Wherever he's going to be. 
He may be at "Deepdene," Edgeware. (Crosses R.c. 
Thinks) What I need is a witness. 

Winifred. (Crosses to her) A witness to what ? 

Eve. To the scandal I'm .going to make to pre- 
vent your marriage. (Suddenly sitting at writing- 
table) I know — Mr. Livingstone! 

Winifred. Who is Mr. Livingstone? 

Eve. (Begins to write) "Dearest Philip " 

No, that's too tender. (Crosses c, Winifred fol- 
lows) "Dear Philip " Too distant. (Crosses 

ex. Winifred follows) "My dearest Philip " 

The "My" underlined, and with a mark of exclama- 
tion after it. "Our talk this afternoon has awak- 
ened old memories " 

Winifred. Your talk? 

Eve. Keep quiet. (Writes) "I agree to your 
suggestion." 

Winifred. Your suggestion? 

Eve. "Your last bachelor night shall have one 
mourner " 

Winifred. Mourner? 

Eve. " — to close the tomb on what once was." 
(Laughs) 

Winifred. What was once, Eve ? 

Eve. Ssh ! "I shall go by the old path past the 



THE WOOING OF EVE 45 

appletrees and straight on till I come to your room. 
Be sure you leave the door open. Till nine-thirty! 
Eve." (Blots and seals letter, but does not address 
envelope) 

Winifred. Oh, Eve! Do you know Sir 
Philip? 

Eve. (Nods) Yes. 

Winifred. Oh, Eve ! Big words ! Music ! Oh, 
Eve ! It was Sir Philip ! 

Eve. Yes. 

Winifred. Oh, Eve! 

Eve. What do you mean, "Oh, Eve"? 

Winifred. You love him. 

Eve. Love him ! I am doing this because I love 
you. (Contemptuously) Love him! . (Rises, 
crosses) Ha! You amuse me. ( Crosses r.) Ha, 
ha! (Crosses l., sits down. Bates comes noise- 
lessly in and stands beside Eve. Eve, thinking, 
turns and suddenly sees him) What's the mat- 
ter? 

Bates. Would you like the blinds up, madam? 

Eve. Up? What for? Are they down? 

Bates. Yes, madam. The fog's quite lifted. 

Eve. Oh, is that the reason they're down? 

Bates. Yes, madam. 

Eve. I thought it might be a custom of the 
house. 

Bates. I don't think it is. It may be. It's only 
my second day here, madam. 

Eve. If it will make you any happier, put them 
up, by all means. (Bates puts up the blinds and 
switches off the bracket) Give this to Mr. Liv- 
ingstone. 

Bates. (Puzzled) Mr. Livingstone, madam? 

Eve. Yes. Mr. Livingstone. Don't you know 
him? 

Bates. Oh, there have been so many here this 
afternoon. You see, it's only 



46 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Eve. Yes, yes. You'll find him waiting down- 
stairs for me. Give it to him. 

Bates. Yes, madam. (Goes out through doors 
c, stops, turns back) I think he's coming here now, 
madam. 

Eve. (Runs to door l v beckons Winifred to 
her. Winifred passes her and exits hurriedly into 
room l.) Give it to him. 

Bates. (Up) Any answer? 

Eve. No. Just give it. Say nothing. Tell me 
when Mr. Livingstone has gone. (Exit L., closing 
door.) 

(Enter Reverend Harry Warrender, a tall, angu- 
lar, eager young clergyman of tzuenty-five) 

Warrender. (Peremptorily) I'll wait here un- 
til Mr. Rodd is free. (Goes down r.) 

Bates. Does he know you're calling, sir? 

Warrender. (Explosively) Of course he does. 
(Goes up l. and back) But tell him again. I must 
see him. I'll stay here until I do. (Walking an- 
grily up and dvwn between the sofa and armchair) 

Bates. (Very nervous) Yes, sir. (Handing 
him the letter) For you, sir. 

W'arrender. (By table. Takes the letter) From 
whom ? 

Bates. A lady, sir. 

Warrender. Don't stand there. Tell Mr. Rodd 
I'm waiting. (About to open letter, hears Living- 
stone's voice, which stops him. Continues angrily 
walking up and down) 

Bates. Yes, sir. (Hurries up to doors c.) 

(Enter Livingstone quickly, c.) 

Livingstone. Has Miss Alverstone gone? 

Bates. (Looking fearfully at Warrender's 
back, and whispering ) A lady has just left the room, 
sir. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 47 

Livingstone. Was it Miss Alverstone? 

Bates. (Again looking apprehensively at War- 
render and whispering) I am not aware of the 
lady's name, sir. Never saw her before. It's only 
my second day here, sir. 

Livingstone. What are you whispering about? 

Bates. You see, sir 

Warrender. (Catching sight of him. Furiously) 
Will you tell Mr. Rodd I'm here! (Down R.) 

Bates. Yes, sir. (Disappears, closing doors c.) 

Livingstone. (Opens doors and calls after him) 
And tell Miss Alverstone I'm here. (Comes back 
and zmlks down c. The two men look at each other, 
then walk up and down parallel to each other, then 
meet down c.) 

Livingstone. (Smiling cheerfully) How do? 
My name's Livingstone. What's yours ? 

Warrender. (Stiffly ) Warrender. 

Livingstone. (Genially) Thank ye. Since we're 
thrown together we might as well be acquainted. 

Warrender. As you like. (Walks down r.) 

Livingstone, (c. Looking at him curiously) 
Friend of Mr. Rodd's? 

Warrender. (Abruptly) No, I'm not. (Goes 
angrily up r. Livingstone also goes up and meets 
him, c.R.j 

Livingstone. (Quite curiously) Going to the 
wedding to-morrow ? 

Warrender. (About to go up to back, stops and 
glowers at Livingstone) There won't be any wed- 
ding tomorrow. 

Livingstone. (Astonished) Ye don't say? 

Warrender. (Angrily) I do say. (Turns an- 
grily up R.C.J 

Livingstone. (Now most curious) What's the 
trouble ? 

Warrender. (Crossing to him) I don't know 
you. 



4 8 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Livingstone. (Genially) Don't let that bother 
you — I'm a friend of the bridegroom. 

Warrender. (Fiercely) Oh, are you? 

Livingstone. Sure ! Known him for years. 

Warrender. You ought to be ashamed to ad- 
mit it. 

Livingstone. (Taken aback) Ashamed? Why? 

Warrender. (Furiously) The blackguard! (Cross- 
es to L.) 

Livingstone. (Follozving) Is he? I always 
thought him a very decent sort of fellow. 

Warrender. Decent? Decent? Would a de- 
cent man buy a girl as his wife? 

Livingstone. Of course not. Is that what he's 
doing ? 

Warrender. It's what he's trying to do. (Sits 
on ottoman) 

Livingston. Oh, that is blackguardly — damned 
blackguardly. (Sees his clerical dress) Excuse me ! 

Warrender. (Ignoring the oath, loosening his 
collar) It makes my blood boil. 

Livingstone. (Over to him) I know that feel- 
ing — suffocating in the midst of air. WTiat are you 
going to do about it? 

Warrender. Stop it. That's what I'm going to 
do. Stop it. If I have to go to the altar to do it. 
He shall never take that beautiful joyous child into 
his tainted life. Never! 

Livingstone. That's the spirit! Is there any- 
thing I can do? 

Warrender. No. There isn't. 

Livingstone. Oh, don't say that. 

Warrender. It's my affair. 

Livingstone. I beg your pardon. 

Warrender. I didn't mean to be rude. 

Livingstone. (Softening) That's all right. 

Warrender. (Gently, with entire change of 
tone) We've grown up together since we were chil- 



THE WOOING OF EVE 49 

dren. (Beating his knee with his clenched fist) 
Since I first knew what love was I've loved her. 
(Pause) And her father wants to sell her to that 
creature. Her youth and her soul, and her laugh- 
ter ! But he won't. He won't. He (Suddenly 

sees letter) Excuse me ! (Tears it open and reads, 
becomes petrified with amazement, gives a great cry 
and rises) Oh ! Here is the instrument, the very 
instrument, to stop the marriage. 

Livingstone. (Excitedly) Is that so? (Crosses 
to Warrender) 

Warrender. I told you the man was a black- 
guard. Here's the proof. An assignation at his 
house tonight. 

Livingstone. Really ? 

Warrender. If he were caught in his own home 
with the writer of this the marriage would have to 
be stopped. 

Livingstone. It might. 

W t arrender. (Determinedly. Putting letter back 
in envelope) Very well. I shall go there. (Pause) 
I'll need a witness. You'll go with me. 

Livvingstone. (Steps back) Here, wait a 
minute. 

Warrender. (Crosses to him) Yes, you will. 
I'll take no refusal. You know Mr. Rodd? 

Livingstone. I've just met him. 

Warrender. You know me now. Read this 
letter. (Thrusts it at Livingstone) 

Livingstone. (Pushing it away) No, no. I 
don't want to read it. 

Warrender. (Fiercely) Read it! 

Livingstone, (c.) It's private. (Backs away 
a step) 

Warrender. It shall be made public tomorrow if 
the marriage isn't stopped. Read it. 

(Bates opens c. doors) 



50 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Livingstone. I'm not in the habit of reading 
letters that are not intended for me. 

(Bates enters c.) 

Bates. (To Livingstone) Mr. Rodd cannot 
see Mr. Warrender. 

Warrender. He can't see me? 

Bates. Is your name Warrender? 

Warrender. Of course it is. 

Bates. I thought it was Livingstone. 

Livingstone. My name's Livingstone. 

Bates. (To Warrender) Then the letter I 
gave you is intended for Mr. Livingstone. 

Livingstone. What? (The two men glare at 
each other) 

Bates. I beg pardon, I'm sure. I'm so sorry 
for the mistake. I hope, sir 

Warrender. That'll do. 

Bates. You see, sir, it's only my second day here, 
sir. (Exit) 

Livingstone. It ought to be his last. (War- 
render crosses to Livingstone and gives him the 
letter. Livingstone looks at letter) There's no 
address on it. 

Warrender. It's the envelope it came in. 

Livingstone. W T hat did you open it for if it 
wasn't addressed to you ? 

Warrender. (Impatiently) The servant said it 
was for me. 

Livingstone. I see, and it was really meant for 
me. 

Warrender. (Testily) No, no, no. It's meant 
for Grafton. 

Livingstone. Grafton? 

Warrender. Yes. Grafton. Grafton. Read 
it. 

Livingstone. In that case, I'll do nothing of the 
kind — if it's meant for Grafton it's going to Graf- 



THE WOOING OF EVE 51 

ton. (Sees desk r., gets envelope, comes down, put- 
ting letter in) 

Warrender. What are you doing ? 

Livingstone. I'm going to seal it up in this en- 
velope so that no one else sees it except the man it's 
meant for. (To r.c.) 

Warrender. (Stopping him) Will you realize 
that Miss Rodd's happiness is at stake? Mine too. 
That letter may help to stop the marriage. Now 
read it. 

Livingstone. No. I will not. I have nothing 
to do with Miss Rodd or you. I'll not do a rotten 
thing like that. (Crosses l.) 

Warrender. Where's the harm? I read it by 
accident. The writer has not even signed her full 
name. Only her Christian name. (Pause) Eve. 

Livingstone. (About to seal envelope, stops) 
Eve? 

Warrender. Yes. Neither of us know who she 
is, but we both do know that she makes an assigna- 
tion with Sir Philip to-night. Indeed, according to 
that letter, they made it here this afternoon. Now 
will you read it? 

Livingstone. (Hesitates, glances at a portion of 
letter) You say she is going to see Sir Philip Graf- 
ton tonight? (Seals the letter) 

Warrender. She made an appointment at Deep- 
dene, Edgeware in that letter for nine-thirty. 

Livingstone. (Suddenly and vehemently ) Then 
she's got to be stopped. 

Warrender. (c.) Stopped? 

Livingstone. Yes. Stopped, stopped, stopped. 
Do you think I'm going to allow a woman I've fol- 
lowed half-way round the world like a slave for six 
months to compromise herself with a fellow like 
Grafton? Not on your life. (Crosses to r.) 

Warrender. (c. Bewildered) What have you 
got to do with it ? 



52 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Livingstone, (c.) I'll tell you. I love the 
woman who is going to Sir Philip Grafton's tonight. 

Warrender. What ? 

Livingstone. And rather than see her com- 
promised for a moment I'd — I'd 

Warrender. (Firmly) But she's going. 

Livingstone. Not if I can help it. If I can't 
prevent her I'll go, too. 

Warrender. (Going up to doors c.) So will I. 
I'll expose him. 

Livingstone. You can expose him as much as 
you like, but you won't say a word about her. (Goes 
out) 

(Bates enters c. and gets in the way of both men, 
who push past him) 

Warrender. (Following him out) I'm going 
to save Winifred. 

Livingstone. (Outside) And I'm going to save 
Eve. 

(Enter Winifred and Eve at door l.) 

Eve. I've got to be there by nine-thirty. 
' Bates. Mr. Livingstone has just gone, madam. 

Eve. Did you give him the letter ? 

Bates. (Sadly) Oh, yes. (Pathetically) I'm 
so mortified. Unfortunately, I gave it by mistake 
to another gentleman first. 

Eve. To whom? 

Bates. A Mr. Warrender. 

Winifred. Harry ! 

Eve. A clergyman ? 

Bates. (Backing to doors c.) Yes. (Eve and 
Winifred exchange glances) I'm so sorry. You 
see, it's only my 

Eve. I know — your second day here. (Exit 
Bates c. Eve and Winifred run to window R. and 
look out and down. Cab whistle is heard) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 53 

Winifred. There's Harry. 

Eve. Oh, is that Harry? 

Winifred. Isn't he a darling? 

Eve. I suppose so. 

Winifred. Is that Mr. Livingstone? 

Eve. Yes. Isn't he a duck? 

Winifred. I suppose so. 

Eve. Here's a taxi ! 

Winifred. They're quarrelling. Oh, he's pushed 
Harry out ? You brute ! 

Eve. Never mind ! Don't fall out of the window. 
He's getting on a bus. It's much more becoming of 
him. They're off ! Oh, this is fun ! I'll have two 
witnesses instead of one. 

Winifred. Oh, Eve ! 

Eve. Oh, Winnie, Winnie, I'm so glad you don't 
love Philip. (Kisses her) Now for a perfectly 
scandalous evening ! (Exit. Winifred sniffs) 



THE CURTAIN FALLS 



ACT II 

The action passes in the library of Sir Philip 
Grafton's, Edgeware. Evening of the same 
day. It is a square, solidly built room, lined 
with shelves on which rest the most famous 
modern and ancient authors. In a cabinet are 
old manuscripts. On the wall portraits of the 
old-time inhabitants and tapestries purchased 
centuries ago. There are French windows at 
back up r. They are wide open, showing a 
gravel path, seme rose-bushes, and a tree in 
shadow. Moonlight streams on to the path. 
There is a door doiwi r. connecting with the in- 
terior, and a massive door up l., covered by 
curtains, connecting with the exterior. A large 
writing-bureau up R., covered with papers. On 
the shelf above are books of reference, medal- 
lions, and a few photographs, framed. 

The rising of the curtain discloses Sir Philip 
Grafton, in evening dress, playing the piano. 

Door r. opens, and enter Winch, Sir 
Philip's valet, a keen, well-groomed, carefully 
brushed man of about forty, of medium height, 
intelligent expression, and an assumed aristo- 
cratic manner, dressed in quiet travelling 
clothes. He walks across to Sir Philip and 
stands at respectful attention with his hat in 
hand and coat over arm. 

Winch coughs. 
Sir Philip. (Glances up at him) Ah, Winch ! 
' 54 



THE WOOING OF EVE 55 

Winch. I go up to town in twenty minutes, Sir 
Philip. 

Sir Philip. Very well. 

Winch. Do we stay long in Naples, may I ask? 

Sir Philip. No definite plans. 

Winch. (With a little cough) I have no desire 
to embarrass you. I would not do it for the world, 
Sir Philip — but I should like to be relieved of my 
duties at the earliest opportunity. 

Sir Philip. (Stops playing, szvings slowly 
around on the piano-stool) Indeed ? 

Winch. Yes, Sir Philip. (Warn bell) 

Sir Philip. You've been with me a long time, 
Winch. 

Winch. That's just it — if I may make so bold. 
I know your ha!/:?, Sir Philip, know them too well 
to commence learning fresh ones. 

Sir Philip. (Turns back to piano and looks 
through some music) Please yourself. Mention 
it to my secretary. 

Winch. Yes, Sir Philip. With regret let me 
add. It's been a pleasure to attend you, Sir Philip, 
if I may say so. "It's easier to find a god in Athens 
than a man," someone once wrote. My experience 
in England, Sir Philip. 

Sir Philip. (Amused) Ah! 

Winch. I have been fortunate in finding at 
least one. 

Sir Philip. Thank you, Winch. 

Winch. Marriage breaks many ties — with re- 
spect, Sir Philip. Should you at any time find your- 
self, in a measure, unattached again, a line would 
call me to you, Sir Philip, with alacrity. 

Sir Philip. You might mention that also to my 
secretary. 

Winch. Yes, Sir Philip. ("Winch coughs) 
Ahem ! I ventured to make some few changes in 
your travelling library, Sir Philip. 



56 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. Oh? 

Winch. I've omitted the poets and restored the 
philosophers. Le Bruyere in Naples might have 
some merit, I ventured to think. 

Sir Philip. I appreciate your forethought, 
Winch. Anything else? 

Winch. (Coughs) Ahem! With the greatest 
respect, sir, and no little trepidation, my wishes for 
your happiness. fSiR Philip just nods smilingly 
at him. Winch bozvs gravely and goes out l. u. e. 
Sir Philip selects one of Debussy's operas and 
plays with sure and delicate touch. Bell rings in 
distance. Winch re-enters l.u.e. and zvalks over 
to Sir P. who stops playing when he sees him) 

Winch. Mr. Livingstone. I told him you didn't 
wish to be disturbed but he seemed to think you'd 
like to see him. 

Sir Philip. Show Mr. Livingstone in. (Rises 
and crosses to desk) 

Winch. Yes, Sir Philip. (Moves to go) 

Sir Philip. Wait! (Turns to desk, picks up a 
sealed letter. Winch moves dozvn and stands by 
desk. Sir Philip hands him letter) When you get 
to town take this round to my mother. (Hands him 
travelling-secretary ) Bring that to me early to-mor- 
row morning. 

Winch. Nine, Sir Philip? 

Sir Philip. Eight. 

Winch. Yes, Sir Philip. 

Sir Philip. (Nods and looks at his watch) 
Don't miss your train. 

Winch. No, Sir Philip. Anything else I can 
do? 

Sir Philip. No. Yes. Stop at the garage and 
tell them to send me a car to-night at ten o'clock. 

Winch. Yes, Sir Philip. (Exits l.u.e. Sir 
Philip tears up some letters, puts others in draw- 
ers Winch re-enters, l.u.e., shows in Living- 



THE WOOING OF EVE 57 

stone and exits l.u.e. Livingstone is in evening 
dress, overcoat, and Homburg hat, gloves in hand, 
smoking a cigar. Start up on dimmers on back 
cloth; pale blue moonlight) 

Livingstone. (Coming in breezily) Hello! 

Sir Philip. (Going to him and shaking hands. 
They meet c.) This is very delightful of you. 

Livingstone. fL.cJ Is it? 

Sir Philip. Delightful ! Let me take your coat. 

Livingstone. (Slipping it off and throwing it 
with his gloves on to a chair up c.) That's all right. 
Anywhere'll do. There we are! It's a pretty bleak 
night, so I thought I'd come out and — and — have a 
chat. 

Sir Philip. How did you come, by train? 

Livingstone. Yes. There were no cabs about. 
Had to walk from the station. One-eyed place out 
here, isn't it? 

Sir Philip. (Smiles) It is rather quiet. 

Livingstone. Quiet ! That's not the word ! 
The only people I've seen since I left London were 
the guard on the train and the station porter. He 
directed me here. 

Sir Philip. Oh, really ? 

Livingstone. Yes. 

Sir Philip. Ah! (Pause) Supper is not till 
twelve-thirty. 

Livingstone. I know. What time shall we 
leave ? 

Sir Philip. We? / am going in by the ten-fif- 
teen. 

Livingstone. Fine ! It will give me time to go 
to my rooms and change, and plenty of time for a 
cosy little talk here ! 

Sir Philip. (Laughing) Plenty ! Sit down. 
Liqueur ? 

Livingstone. Whiskey, if you got it. Any 
rye? 



58 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. I'm afraid not. 

Livingstone. Anything will do. Even Scotch. 

Sir Philip. (Bringing glasses and decanter to 
table) Shall I? 

Livingstone. Don't bother. I'll mix it. (Does 
so) 

Sir Philip. The cigars are beside you? 

Livingstone. Right. Hurrah. (Drinks; takes 
cigar, bites end off, lights it without looking at Sir 
PhilipJ 

Sir Philip. (Has poured out a pony of brandy 
for himself. They both drink. Sir Philip goes to 
desk) 

Livingstone. Have I butted in? 

Sir Philip. Eh? 

Livingstone. I mean, interrupted you? 

Sir Philip. No. By the way, have you the same 
rooms in New York ? 

Livingstone. Yes. 

Sir Philip. Let me see, on — on 

Livingstone. Fifth Avenue and 44th Street. 

Sir Philip. The name of a wine, if I remember ? 

Livingstone. Sherry's. 

Sir Philip. Of course! Sherry's. You made 
my hurried visit to New York extremely pleasant. 

Livingstone. I was glad to have you. 

Sir Philip. I dropped in for a cup of tea one 
day, and stayed six weeks. And, by the way, your 
advice was most helpful to me in — what's the name 
of your great stock exchange street? Something 
dead? 

Livingstone. (Laughingly) Wall! 

Sir Philip. That's it, Wall Street. 

Livingstone. You're quite right, it's full of 
tombstones. 

Sir Philip. I was very fortunate, under your 
guidance. 

Livingstone. Oh, that's all right. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 59 

Sir Philip. I've not forgotten it. 

Livingstone. Haven't you ? 

Sir Philip. I was, and am still, most grateful. 

Livingstone. (Braces himself for the attack, 
puts his cigar down, leans across the table, and looks 
straight at Sir Philip,) Well, here / am in my turn 
sitting in your rooms, and I want to ask your advice. 

Sir Philip. (Quite interested) Splendid! 
About stocks? 

Livingstone. No. About something almost as 
elusive, and quite as disappointing — at times. 

Sir Philip. Oh? What's that? 

Livingstone. A woman. (Sir Philip drazus 
back a bit, looking intently at him) You can be of 
a whole lot of assistance to me. 

Sir Philip. It will be a pleasure. 

Livingstone. (Grimly) I'm not so sure about 
that. fSiR Philip makes slight movement ) 

Sir Philip. Why not? 

Livingstone. Well, I'm not. Now, here's the 
proposition. Supposing you were very much in love 
with a woman fSiR Philip looks at him steadily, 
but says nothing) and she wrote a letter to another 
man saying she was going to call on him, at night, 
in his rooms? 

Sir Philip. Yes? 

Livingstone. .What would you do ? 

Sir Philip. (Suspicious) How should I know 
she'd written it? 

Livingstone. Suppose it fell into your hands 
first. 

Sir Philip. That's ingenious! 

Livingstone. What would you do? 

Sir Philip. Is this a hypothetical question? 

Livingstone. No. It's a real question. I know 
the man, and the woman, and I've seen the letter. 
(Pause) If you were the man who was in love with 
ner, and you got the letter, what would you do ? 



60 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. (Musing) I don't quite know. 

Livingstone. Think, think, there's a good fel- 
low! 

Sir Philip. (Looking shrewdly at him) Why? 

Livingstone. Well — I'd like to know your out- 
look. See? 

Sir Philip. (Pause) I should prevent the 
meeting. 

Livingstone. (Smiling) Good! We're on the 
same set of rails from the start. What else would 
you do? 

Sir Philip. I'd look the man up — if he were 
the kind one could look up. 

Livingstone. Good again ! You wouldn't go to 
the woman first? 

Sir Philip. No. I think not. 

Livingstone. Surprising how we agree! 
(Pause) What would you do when you looked the 
fellow up? 

Sir Philip. I'd probably tell him he was a black- 
guard. 

Livingstone. (Taken completely aback) Eh? 
You'd tell him he was a ? 

Sir Philip. Probably. 

Livingstone. But suppose he was your friend? 

Sir Philip. All the more reason, and the greater 
the privilege ! 

Livingstone. Yes. But suppose he didn't know 
that I — that is, that you — were in love with the 
woman ? 

Sir Philip. Then it's high time he did. 

Livingstone. Why, you're after my own heart, 
all the way through. Except just one thing. / 
looked the man up, but I've liked him so much that 
I'd hate like hell to call him a blackguard. Let me 
off that, will you? (Pause) You know, I was 
really very fond of you, the little I saw of you. 
Don't ask me to call you names, please. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 61 

Sir Philip. (In amazement ) Call me ? 

Livingstone. (Rising) I don't want to do that. 
Let's fix it up quiet and nice, eh? Shall we? (Sir 
Philip looks at him in stony silence) I'm in deep 
water over Miss Eve Alverstone — right out of my 
depth — can't keep my head above. See where I'm 
coming ? 

Sir Philip. I do not. 

Livingstone. (Smiling indulgently up to him) 
You old rascal ! 

Sir Philip. (Rises) Your talent for humor I 
have on several occasions during our short acquaint- 
ance envied. Unfortunately, I am, from an Ameri- 
can standpoint, void of it. (Moves out to c.) 

Livingstone. (Rises) So am I, for the moment. 
In fact, I'm dead serious. The woman I like more 
than any other I have ever met, or ever will meet, 
is coming here to-night. 

Sir Philip. What? 

Livingstone. (Looks up at him) Gee ! Say, I 
wish / could keep an innocent face like that when 
I'm found out. 

Sir Philip. (Goes out to back of chair R.cJ 
Miss Alverstone is coming here to-night? 

Livingstone. She is. By appointment. 

Sir Philip. WTiat appointment? 

Livingstone. You know best about that. 

Sir Philip. No such appointment was ever 
made. 

Livingstone. What's the use of saying that? 
You know she's coming. 

Sir Philip. You are absolutely mistaken. 

Livingstone. I wish I were. Let us talk the 
thing out frankly and above-board. I'm in love 
with her — that's where I stand. She seems to be 
in love with you- 



Sir Philip. / tell you 

Livingstone. Quiet, just a minute. Don't imag- 



62 THE WOOING OF EVE 

ine for a moment that I think there is anything 
that reflects on her in making this — this — assig- 
nation. 

Sir Philip There was no 

Livingstone. Will you let me finish? 

Sir Philip. / 

Livingstone. Just let me finish, please. (Pause. 
Sir Philip turns, faces him) I am sure the whole 
thing is just a high-spirited prank, the sort of thing 
she'd do without an atom of wrong, so far as she's 
concerned. But we know life in cities pretty well, 
and we've both seen what just such a prank as this 
has cost a woman. Haven't we? Let us protect 
Miss Alverstone from running any risk like that. 
If there is time, send her a message and stop her 
coming here. 

Sir Philip. I assure you 

Livingstone. I don't want your assurance. 
For goodness sake do something. Telegraph ! Tele- 
phone ! Get a move on! (Moves doivn R.J 

Sir Philip. I couldn't telegraph — I don't know 
Miss Alverstone's address. I couldn't telephone — I 
don't know her number. Do you still think there is 
an appointment? 

Livingstone. Think! I know. Now don't 
fool about any longer. Stop her from coming. 

Sir Philip. I don't know your reasons, but you 
seem to be trying to fasten a quarrel on me. 

Livingstone. Nothing of the kind ! At least, 
not yet. But if she comes here 

Sir Philip. (Angrily walking up L.c. towards 
windows) This has gone quite far enough. 

Livingstone. (Following him, also growing 
angry) Very much too far, to my mind. (Crosses 
c.) I know, after what she told me to-day, what a 
fool I've been ever to have dreamed she could give 
me a second thought, tfou're the man she likes. 
(Sir Philip turns angrily to speak) Yes, you are. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 63 

What is she coming here for, the night before your 
marriage, unless she's crazy about you ? 

Sir Philip. (Comes down) Once and for 
all 

Livingstone. That's all right ! I can't help it 
if she is. That lets me out. But, all the same, I'm 
just as jealous of her reputation as if she were my 

mother, or my sister, or my (His voice drops) 

wife. And if any man caused the slightest suspicion 

to fall on her I'd — I'd (Sir Philip interrupts, 

his voice rising) Oh, cut out all this arguing and 
do something ! 

Sir Philip. You really believe an appointment 
was made? 

Livingstone. Just as much as I do that I'm 
standing here — looking at yon. 

Sir Philip. I give you my word of honor that 
I have no appointment with Miss Alverstone. When 
I met her this afternoon she expressed a wish never 
to see me again. 

Livingstone. (Looks searchingly at him, trying 
to judge whether he is speaking the truth) Do you 
really mean that ? 

Sir Ppiilip. On my word of honor. 

Livingstone. Then what does she mean by 
writing to you? 

Sir Philip. I don't know. How did you find 
out she did? 

Livingstone. I saw the letter. 

Sir Philip. Saw it? 

Livingstone. Yes, I've got it. 

Sir Philip. Where is it? 

Livingstone. Here. (Takes out letter and 
hands it to Sir Philip,) 

Sir Philip. Where did you get this ? 

Livingstone. From — a — Mr. Warrender. 

Sir Philip. Warrender? 

Livingstone. Yes. A clergyman. 



64 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. Oh, / know him. 

Livingstone. He'll be here in a few minutes. 

Sir Philip. What for? (Takes out letter from 
envelope) 

Livingstone. To raise Cain. He's got it in for 
you all right. 

Sir Philip. Where did he get it? 

Livingstone. That fool of an "only-my-second- 
day-here" servant gave it to him first, then to me. 
Nice thing, letting that parson see it. He's going 
to make a bunch of trouble, believe me! 

Sir Philip. You both read it? 

Livingstone. No, no. / didn't read it. He 
read it by accident, and told me something of what 
was in it. 

Sir Philip. It's most bewildering. 

Livingstone. Can't you think of something we 
can do? She may be here any minute. 

Sir Philip. (By piano) That's out of the ques- 
tion. It's either a complete misunderstanding or else 
some clumsy joke. 

Livingstone. Damned clumsy. 

Sir Philip. (Crossing to him) But if you have 
the slightest suspicion stay here and go back to town 
with me. 

Livingstone. (Changing his tone as he begins 
to believe Sir Philip,) No appointment? 

Sir Philip. No. 

Livingstone. Never even talked about it? 

Sir Philip. No. 

Livingstone. Didn't tell you she was crazy 
about you? 

Sir Philip. (In curve of piano) No. I re- 
peat — she said she never wanted to see me again. 

Livingstone. (Thinking) Well, this beats hell ! 
(Crosses) I'm fairly up a tree now. (By chair) 

Sir Philip. If I had received this letter the first 
thing I would have done would be as you suggested. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 65 

I would have stopped her coming. I am just as 
jealous of her reputation as you are. 

Livingstone. Are you? 

Sir Philip. (Down to l. of Livingstone,) Why, 
naturally, anything that would injure Miss Alver- 
stone would reflect on Miss Rodd. 

Livingstone. That's true, too. 

Sir Philip. But — wait here and satisfy your- 
self. 

Livingstone. (Goes to him d.l.c. Looks at Sir 
Philip, laughs, then offers his hand with relief) 
You're a white man all right. 

Sir Philip. I'm glad to have restored your con- 
fidence. 

Livingstone. Well, you've done that. 

Sir Philip. Thank you. 

Livingstone. Oh, Lord, what a weight you've 
lifted off my mind! (Going up c.) How in the 
world did that letter go astray? If I were John 
Rodd I'd chloroform that butler. I tell you one 
thing. I'll write her a note here, with a full de- 
scription of my feelings when I found out what was 
in the letter and of your face when I started on you. 
Gee, I certainly had you going, hadn't I? 

Sir Philip. (c.l.) "Had me going?" (By 
piano) 

Livingstone. Oh, Lord, you were "winging," 
weren't you? 

Sir Philip. (Puzzled) I don't think so. 

Livingstone. You were furious. 

Sir Philip. Oh, yes, I certainly was a little an- 
noyed. 

Livingstone. (Laughs) I'll write a nice fresh 
billet doux and leave it at 40 Mount Street on my 
way back. 

Sir Philip. (Crossing to desk up r.) Write it 
here. 

Livingstone. (Following him) Oh, no. Can't 



66 THE WOOING OF EVE 

I go somewhere else ? I want to write a real letter. 
You know — a funny one, and plenty of it. 

Sir Philip. (Goes to door r. and opens it) 
There's an escritoire in here. I'll light up. (Goes 
into the room r.) Yes, there's everything in here. 

Livingstone. (Going up to zvindows; the whole 
garden is flooded with moonlight) Do you know, 
when I came in here everything was all black — a 
pitch dark night, without a star. Now the Heavens 
are full of them, and there's a great big yellow moon 
as well. Great, isn't it? And it's just the same in- 
side here. (Tapping his head) The darkness has 
all gone. I'm all starlight and moonshine. Word- 
picture! (Crosses to door r. Exit singing) "And 
when I tell them how wonderful you are, dear." 
(Closes door r.) 

Sir Philip. (Calling through door) Is it cold 
in there ? 

Livingstone. Not a bit. (Goes on singing the 
refrain) 

Sir Philip. (Opens the door a fezu inches. 
Pause) Must you sing ? ( Livingstone la ughs and 
finishes the song faintly) Come back when you've 
finished your letter. 

Livingstone. (Off) Right you are! ("Sir 
Philip closes the door, walks perplexedly to the 
desk, and destroys some letters and arranges others. 
He crosses to piano and sees a large photograph, 
which he is looking at intently when the sound of 
a motor horn is heard. He stops in the act and looks 
in the direction of the garden. Then the sound of 
an automobile going away. Sir Philip, satisfied 
that the automobile has gone, turns back to the photo- 
graph, and is about to destroy it) 
(Enter Eve, wrapped in furs. Sir Philip, with 
photograph in his hand, looks at her in amaze- 
ment.) 

Eve. (Stands for a moment looking at him, her 



THE WOOING OF EVE 67 

eyes dancing with mischief) Good evening! 
(Moves down towards c.) Am I late? I was so 
afraid I would be. I couldn't find a train to fit, so 
I motored out the whole way. (Shivers. Looks at 
him standing thunderstruck by the windows. Sir 
Philip closes the windows and comes down to her) 
I sent the chauffeur to the inn to get warm — to "The 
Intrepid Fox." (Sits in armchair, r. Smiles up at 
Sir Philip,) Where is your mother? (Sits R.) 

Sir Philip. In town. 

Eve. Oh, really? Have you still got the faith- 
ful Winch? (Throwing back her wraps, she is seen 
to be in evening dress) 

Sir Philip. Yes. 

Eve. Where is he? 

Sir Philip. On his way to town. 

Eve. (Looking up) Are we alone, then? 

Sir Philip. No. Mr. Livingstone is here 

Eve. Oh ! Why did he come here ? 

Sir Philip. He brought me this letter from 
you. 

Eve. Really ? 

Sir Philip. It was given to him by mistake. 

Eve. Was it? 

Sir Philip. It was. 

Eve. How stupid ! 

Sir Philip. He seemed to think it his duty to 
call on me. 

Eve. (c.) Why? 

Sir Philip, (l.c.) To prevent you coming 
here. 

Eve. (Gives a little satisfied smile and sits again 
r.c.) Did he want to save my reputation? 

Sir Philip. He did. 

Eve. What a nice man. Where is he? 

Sir Philip. (Points to door r.) In there. 

Eve. (Half laughing) Is he? (Rise) What's 
he doing? 



68 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip, (c.) Writing you a letter. 

Eve. Poor thing. Fancy that ! Why, the key is 
on this side. 

Sir Philip. (Goes a little towards door r. and 
looks) Yes. (By table) 

Eve. Lock the door, Philip. 

Sir Philip. Why? 

Eve. I don't want him to come in — just yet. 

Sir Philip. (Moving to her) But 

Eve. Never mind ! I'll lock it myself. (Goes to 
door, locks it, listens a moment, and nods merrily) 
"He wouldn't believe me." He's singing. It must be 
a jolly letter. (Looks at Sir Philip and bursts into 
uncontrollable laughter, r. of table R.c.j 

Sir Philip. I'm glad you think it amusing. 
Frankly, I don't. 

Eve. I think it quite the funniest thing that 
could have happened. 

Sir Philip. Why have you come here? 

Eve. Philip ! Suppose I wanted to see you for 
the last time on the earth of romance. Suppose 
sentiment conquered prudence. (She looks quiz- 
singly at the perplexed Sir Philip ) 

Sir Philip. (Behind table) Sentiment con- 
quered prudence? Sentiment? What sentiment 
can you have for me? 

Eve. Ah, there we have it ! What ? You don't 
know how the news of your marriage shocked me 
to-day. 

Sir Philip. Shocked you? 

Eve. (Nods sadly) Yes. Shocked. Although 
a woman may thrust an emotion from her for years, 
and think she's forgotten it, sometimes it so happens 
that what she thought was dead has only been slum- 
bering. That is my condition. I have discovered 
that — something — has only been slumbering. 

Sir Philip. (In absolute astonishment ) Some- 
thing has been slumbering? 



THE WOOING OF EVE 69 

Eve. Don't repeat everything I say. It will take 
so long to finish. (Behind chair R.J You haven't 
asked me to stay. 

Sir Philip. No. 

Eve. Very well. I will. (Sits R.J Let our 
farewell be almost unspoken. If women break their 
hearts, at least let it be in silence. It is all a man 
ever exacts from them, isn't it? (Moves. Pause) 
Just silence. (Pause) It's very hard on the woman, 
Philip, isn't it? (To c.) I suppose this is farewell. 

Sir Philip. I understood you to say it this 
afternoon. 

Eve. I thought afterwards I'd rather say it here. 
(Looks around. Crosses front — crosses back to 
L.cJ Here, in this room consecrated by memory 
to my — slumbering — sentiment. Because it was 
here you 

Sir Philip. Please don't refer to — that. 

Eve. I won't. (Pause) You are really going 
to marry my little cousin? 

Sir Philip, (r.c.) I am. 

Eve. Poor Winifred ! Her life all hot sunshine 
and quick tears. You have driven away the sun- 
shine. Only the tears remain — oceans of them. 
Poor Winifred! 

Sir Philip. I intend to make everything happy 
for her. 

Eve. Then why fasten chains around her ? 

Sir Philip. / love Winifred. 

Eve. I, too, am devoted to her. That is one of 
the reasons why I risked your temper — and my own 
reputation — by coming here. Please give her up, 
Philip. 

Sir Philip. No, I love her. 

Eve. You know, Philip, if you say that often 
enough you'll begin to believe it. In the name of all 
great men and for the sake of one suffering woman, 
give up Winifred. (Quite close to him) 



70 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. Are you trying to waken something 
in me, Eve? 

Eve. Yes. 

Sir Philip. What ? 

Eve. Pity for Winifred, Philip. 

Sjr Philip. I mean the memory of you five 
years ago? 

Eve. Ah ! It was just such a night. 

Sir Philip. Yes. Moonlight! Music! You, 
the woman ! 

Eve. And you, the man. 

Sir Phtlif Oh, if only 

Eve. If only the dormant brute had lain dor- 
mant? 

Sir Philtp. (Shocked) Can you speak of it so 
cold-bloodedly ? 

Eve. (Presses her cheeks) I burn at'fhe remem- 
brance. 

Sir Philip. Yes. Now everything is changed. 

Eve. Changed indeed ! (Sighs) I am an old 
maid, and you want to marry a child to-morrow. 
(Pause) But you won't, will you, Philip? 

Sir Philip. (Coming under her spell) Sup- 
pose I do what you ask me — make the sacrifice — 
will you do something in return? 

Eve. What ? 

Sir Philip. Think back with me five years. 

Eve. I'd love to. 

Sir Philip. Let it be as though the later words 
were never spoken, as though the barrier had never 
been, as though we were now as we were then — a 
man and a woman on equal terms, lovers. 

Eve. (Looks at windows, withdraws her hand, 
and turns up to windows. Then goes to piano, picks 
up photograph) Oh ! Me! It's an old one, isn't it ? 

Sir Philip. (Goes to piano and sits and plays 
softly, watching her intently) Yes. It hasn't been 
oft there for five year's. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 71 

Eve. What were you going to do, destroy 
me? 

Sir Philip. (Strikes chord on piano) No, no. 
Oh, no. 

Eve. Oh, yes, you were. I don't blame you. 
How proper I looked five years ago. 

Sir Philip. Adorable. (Plays Chopin's Noc- 
turne in E) 

Eve. How like you, Philip, to play the piano. 
(Listens for several bars) Why, it's the same noc- 
turne ! I first heard you play that five years ago. 
(Waits until the movement is finished then, quite 
moved, goes to him and touches him on the shoulder) 
Oh, Philip ! Philip ! (He stops playing) 

Sir Philip. Eve ! 

Eve. Philip, my dear. 

Sir Philip. (Rises and goes to her) Eve, it's 
just as it was five years ago. 

Eve. Yes, Philip. 

Sir Philip. What do you want me to do? 

Eve. I want you to give up Winifred. 

Sir Philip. I will. Be my wife. 

Eve. Don't be absurd. Be your wife, Philip? 

Sir Philip. Yes. The world was made for us. 
f Warrender comes in at windows c.) Be my wife. 
(Sir Philip embraces her) 

(Warrender enters c. doors) 

Eve. (Sees WarrenderJ You fool! You've 
come too soon. 

Sir Philip. Too soon? What do you mean? 
(Livingstone rattles at door r.) 

Livingstone. Sir Philip ! Hullo ! Sir Philip ! 
You've locked me in. (Rattles door continuously ) 
Grafton! Sir Philip ! (Goes on rattling. Eve has 
crossed to up l.c. Sir Philip goes to door, unlocks, 
and opens it) 

Livingstone. (Enters and closes door, a sealed 



J2 THE WOOING OF EVE 

letter in his hand) Why, what in the world did you 
lock the door for? (Sees Warrender,) Hello! 
(Following direction of Warrender's eye, turns, 
and sees Eve,) Miss Alverstone ! 

Warrender. (Comes a little way into the room 
and speaks to Livingstone,) I'm glad you're here. 
(Points to Sir Philip,) That man is a proven black- 
guard. ("Livingstone looks from Sir Philip to 
Eve,) The marriage to-morrow cannot take place. 

Livingstone. Here ! Gently, gently ! You stop 
the marriage by all means. Call him (Indicating Sir 
Philip,) all the hard names you please. (Looks at 
Eve,) But don't — don't drag any woman's name 
into this wretched business. 

Warrender. Miss Rodd will not be sacrificed 
for the sake of speaking the truth. 

Livingstone. Nor shall any other woman be 
sacrificed to suit your convenience. Make up your 
mind to that. (He crosses to Eve) 

Sir Philip. (Crossing to r.c.) Will you tell me 
by what right you dare to force yourself into this 
room ? 

Warrender. (c.) I will. A letter came, provi- 
dentially, into my hands that was intended for you. 
It showed beyond any question that you are not the 
type of man Miss Rodd should be allowed to marry. 

Sir Philip. Since when have you assumed the 
right to say whom Miss Rodd shall or shall not 
marry ? 

Warrender. I love Miss Rodd. 

Sir Philip. You! (Crosses d.r .) 

Eve. (Interrupting. Crosses to l.c.J If he loves 
Miss Rodd of course he has a right to interfere if 
she's going to marry someone else. (To Warren- 
der,) You have every right. You love her. That 
is enough. There shall be no marriage to-morrow. 

Livingstone. (Quickly) He'll not sacrifice 
you. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 73 

Eve. I never allow any man to do that, Mr. 
Livingstone. 

Livingstone. But don't you see that 

Eve. (Stops Livingstone, and turns to War- 
render J I am very glad you came, though I wish 
you had come later. Still, I'm glad" you came. I 
never knew a marriage to interest so many different 
people in so many different ways. I heard of it 
only this afternoon, and I wanted to stop it. 

Warrender. Stop it? 

Eve. The time was short, so I came here. I 
found Sir Philip most reasonable. We were just 
arriving at a most satisfactory conclusion when you 
came in. 

Warrender. (Sternly) Satisfactory conclu- 
sion ! Why, you were in his arms. ( Livingstone 
makes movement ) 

Eve. Well, isn't that a satisfactory conclusion 
between a man and a woman? It was most satis- 
factory, wasn't it, Philip? ("Sir Philip turns 
away r.) 

Livingstone. (Crosses to Warrender,) Now, 
look here 

Warrender. (Still looking at Eve,) Then it is 
distinctly understood that there shall be no question 
of Miss Rodd marrying that man to-morrow? 

Eve. It is distinctly understood that there shall 
be no question of Miss Rodd marrying to-morrow. 
No question whatever. The whole thing is off. (To 
Sir Philip; Isn't it, Philip? 

Sir Philip, (r.) It does not rest with you, 
Miss Alverstone. (To Warrender J Now will you 
be good enough to go? 

Warrender. (To Sir Philip,) I warn you I 
shall make the fullest possible use of what I saw 
here just now. 

Livingstone. Why, you 

Eve. (Checking him, turns to Warrender ) 



74 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Quite right. You make the fullest possible use of 
what you saw here, just now. If you forget any- 
thing ask me. I'll prompt you. Miss Rodd must 
not marry him. (To Sir Philip ) Really, she 
mustn't, Philip. 

Livingstone. (Following WarrenderJ You'll 
not mention her name. (Indicating Eve,) 
Warrender. Not unless it is necessary. 
Livingstone. (Up ex .) It shall not be neces- 
sary. Make up your mind to that. 

Warrender. (Up c.) To-morrow morning I 
shall call on Mr. Rodd. 

Eve. (r.c. by chair) So shall I. I'm going to 
see you through this, young parson. 

Livingstone. If he'll allow me I'd like to be 
there as well. 

Eve. (To Livingstone ) Certainly he'll allow 
you. I'll see that he does. 

Warrender. (Pointing at Sir Philip, but Eve 
is in the way) You're hemmed in. 

Eve. (Stepping back from Warrender's accus- 
ing finger. To Sir Philip,) That's meant for you, 
Philip. 

Warrender. (To Sir Philip ) I'll show you no 
mercy. A man who'd marry a child against her will 
deserves none. (Turns to Livingstone ) Good- 
night. (Livingstone turns away silently) 

Eve. (Runs up to c. Brightly) Good-night! 
Good luck ! ("Warrender disappears through win- 
dows. The three stand a moment in silence. Both 
the men are looking at Eve. She looks first at Liv- 
ingstone, who is staring sadly at her, then at Sir 
Philip, who is frowning gloomily) 

Eve. (Comes c. and turns to Livingstone ) Be 
sure to meet me at my uncle's to-morrow morning. 
We'll need you. 

Livingstone. You niust think me an interfering 
fool for coming here to-night. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 75 

Eve. Indeed I don't. I think it was splendid 
of you. 

Livingstone. I hoped. to have avoided all this. 
If I hadn't gone in there (Indicating room R.) I 
might have. 

Eve. I'll forgive you — if you'll let me have that 
letter you've just written. (Pointing to the letter 
in his hand) 

Livingstone. (Shakes his head) No. It 
wouldn't mean anything now. 

Eve. Why not? 

Livingstone. Because when I wrote it I was 
convinced you weren't coming. (Nodding to Sir 
PhilipJ He convinced me. 

Eve. (To Sir Philip ) What did you do that 
for? 

Livingstone. (To Eve ) So you were only 
laughing at me this afternoon. 

Eve. (Softly) I've never done that. 

Livingstone. 'Just playing the fool with me. 

Eve. (Shaking her head) No, I wasn't. 

Livingstone. Well, you certainly got away with 
it. The honors rest with you. I'll tell you one 
thing, I'm out of conceit with myself for the rest of 
my life. ("Eve holds out her hand for the letter* 
Livingstone tears it up and puts the pieces in his 
pocket) There's the end of that. (Pause. Turns 
to her) Do you really want me to call on Mr. Rodd 
in the morning? 

Eve. (Gently) Yes. I'd like you to. I'll need 
you. 

Livingstone. All right. I will. And after that 
I won't bother you any more. You've put me in my 
place, all right. 

Eve. (Putting her hand on his arm) I'm very 
sorry. 

Livingstone. (Looks at her hand) Good-night ! 
(Goes up and gets his overcoat, hat and gloves. 



76 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Looks at Sir Philip,) I must apologize for blun- 
dering in here to-night. 

Sir Philip. Not at all. 

Livingstone. I meant well, but I see I'm in 
wrong. Most of us are when we interfere in other 
people's business. I deserved a snub 

Sir Philip. No, no. 

Livingstone. You've let me down easy. Much 
obliged ! Good-night. 

Sir Philip. Good-night! 

(Exit Livingstone c. to lJ 

Eve. (Calls after him) Good-night, Mr. Living- 
stone ! (To Sir Philip,) He thinks this is a 
tragedy. He doesn't know how funny it is. He'll 
laugh when I tell him. Do you know what he said 
to me this morning? He told me I was the sort of 
a woman who could do no wrong. What in the 
world does he think of me now? Alone — with you. 
That's wrong, surely. I know the parson thinks 
the worst. (Up c. Laughs immoderately) He 
takes himself very seriously, even for a parson, 
doesn't he? (Pause) Yes, he does. 

Sir Philip. (To her) W T as this a trap? 
Eve. (Contemptuously) Don't be absurd. A 
trap! 

Sir Philip. Was it? 
Eve. (Defiantly) Suppose it was. 
Sir Philip. Then you admit it? 
Eve. If you like. 

Sir Philip. (Pause. Crosses to Eve, looks 
steadily at her) Don't you think it was a little 
cruel? More than a little unwise? And alto- 
gether unworthy of you? 

Eve. (Down l.cJ From the moment I realized 
how wretched I was — I mean, she was — I made up 
my mind to save her. , 

Sir Philip. (To her) At your own expense. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 77 

Eve. Well, chiefly at yours. 

Sir Philip. You think I am beaten? 

Eve. It isn't generous to gloat. 

Sir Philip. I'm not. 

Eve. No ? 

Sir Philip. No. 

Eve. (Crosses) We'll see. 

Sir Philip, (c.) So you were laughing at me 
as well just now? 

Eve. You won't believe me, but not all the 
time. 

Sir Philip. It's a dangerous pastime. 

Eve. I know it is. That's why I did it. 

Sir Philip. (Comes dozen level with her) So 
you have burned all my bridges, you think? 

Eve. Well, most of them, so far as Winifred is 
concerned, I am sure. 

Sir Philip. I suppose I ought to be furious with 
you. 

Eve. It's a very good imitation you're giving. 
Aren't you furious with me? 

Sir Philip. Yes, I am. And yet my resentment 
is strongly tinged with admiration. 

Eve. Admiration ? 

Sir Philip. (Looks intently at her) A woman 
who has the wit to plan and the courage to execute 
such a coup as you have to-night has a common 
bond with mankind. She compels admiration. You 
compel mine. (Smiles at her) I yield to your spell. 
Even as Adam, I fall victim to Eve. (Sits l. of 
table) They were banished for a fault. We shall 
be after to-night. Sha'n't we? Only we shall not 
be ashamed. We shall be clothed with the garment 
of worldly experience. 

Eve. (Claps her hands) Bravo, Philip! Very 
nicely put. You still love word-painting. Well, I 
think I have done all the good, and harm, I can for 
to-night. I must be off. (She is holding her coat. 



78 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip takes it from her and throws it on back 
of chair l. to u.r. Rises) Will you phone to "The 
Intrepid Fox" for my chauffeur? 

Sir Philip. We shall not need him. 

Eve. I do need him. 

Sir Philip. He is quite comfortable there, let 
us make ourselves comfortable here. (Sits l. of 
table) 

Eve. (In absolute astonishment) What? 

Sir Philip. You know, you've had things pretty 
much your own way so far, haven't you? I'm sure 
you won't grudge me having a little of my own way 
now, will you? 

Eve. Have as much of it as you like — after I've 
gone. Where is your 'phone ? 

Sir Philip. (Rises) In the hall. 

Eve. Tell him to come at once. I'm quite tired 
suddenly. (Sits R. of table r.c .) 

Sir Philip. That's right ! Rest there. I don't 
like the idea of your going back so late over the 
dark roads. Stay here. 

Eve. Stay here? I'll not do anything of the 
kind. 

Sir Philip. Please do. (Pause) Do you know, 
in Africa the bride and groom sit up together all 
the night before the wedding? 

Eve. What a very large amount of information 
you have on very small subjects ! No, I don't know 
what they do in Africa, and, what's more, I don't 
care. 

Str Philip. (Sits) Let us sit up all to-night. 

Eve. Us? Yon and met (Laughs heartily) 
That's the first joke I ever heard you make, Philip. 
Amd it's such a stupid one! If you're too lazy I'll 
phone myself. (About to cross room) 

Sir Philip. (Slipping in front of her. Crosses 
to door. Locks door up l' v and pockets the key) 

Eve. What are you doing that for ? 



THE WOOING OF EVE 79 

Sir Philip. (Crosses to her) I don't want you 
to telephone. 

Eve. (Sits. Looks at him a moment, then turns 
and hurries to windows c. Sir Philip quickly goes 
to windows, locks them, and again pockets the key. 
Eve glares at him indignantly) How long do you 
intend to keep this up? 

Sir Philip. Until it is time to prepare for the 
ceremony to-morrow morning. (Sits l.) 

Eve. (Down c. Looks sneeringly at him) Poor 
Philip ! Is this how you try to get even with me ? 
Your idea of punishment! Locking me in — with 
you? Oh, what a punishment! 

Sir Philip. Well, you came here to compromise 

me, didn't you? And you succeeded. Now 

(Shrugs his shoulders) 

Eve (contemptuously ) Is there anything quite 
so pitiable in all humanity as a man robbed of what 
he had set his heart on? Where is the — the bell? 
(Sir Philip points to it on the table. Looking 
around, sees it) Ah! (Goes to bell and rings con- 
tinuously. Sir Philip laughs) What are you 
grinning at? 

Sir Philip. (Seated) I told you there was no- 
body else in the house. We are quite alone. (Pause, 
as she stops ringing and glares at him. Rises) How 
history repeats itself ! Only, five years ago my 
mother was within call. 

Eve. (Moves to c. a little, tozvards him, laugh- 
ing heartily, yet her laughter has a strange ring of 
uneasiness) Why not accept defeat gracefuly, 
Philip? 

Sir Philip. With you as my wife I would ac- 
cept anything gracefully. 

Eve. If the population of the world was nar- 
rowed down to just you and me I would ask you 
which hemisphere you preferred and I would choose 
the other one. (Angrily) Let me out of here. 



80 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. No. You are going to stay here all 
night. 

Eve. You wouldn't dare. 

Sir Philip. Oh, yes, I would. 

Eve. (c. Sneers at him again) It would be 
quite worthy of you. A man who would force his 
attentions on a child by bribing her father would 
do anything contemptible. It will be just one more 
discreditable action in a most discreditable career. 
(Sir Philip laughs) 

Sir Philip. Now you listen to me. (Pause. 
Rises) Either you agree to place no obstacle in the 
way of to-morrow's marriage or you stay here all 
night. 

Eve. You'll not marry Winifred, and I'll not 
stay here all night. 

Sir Philip. Oh, yes, you will. 

Eve. Do you know what it would mean if you 
did such a contemptible thing? You would get a 
public horse-whipping. I'd see to that. You would 
be expelled from every club. I'd see to that, too. 
Your name would stand for all that is hateful after 
I had got through with you ! 

Sir Philip. I'll risk all that. 

Eve. Do you suppose my uncle will allow you to 
marry Winifred after to-night? 

Sir Philip. I do. Indeed, it is your uncle who 
suggested the marriage. To-morrow — after the 
ceremony — I become his partner. No marriage, no 
partnership. 

Eve. Oh, the business transaction. 

Sir Philip. That's a most ingenuous way of 
putting it. 

Eve. It's infamous! Outrageous! Let me out 
of here. 

Sir Philip. No. You will have plenty of op- 
portunity between now and to-morrow morning to 
think over the outrageous thing you have done to- 



THE WOOING OF EVE 81 

night. It may teach you to be careful how you in- 
terfere in people's lives again. 
Eve. I did it for Winifred. 

(Warn bell and lights out) 

Sir Philip. I am not so sure. You deliberately 
played on my memory of you so that I might fall 
into the trap you laid. You've waited five years 
for to-night to enjoy my discomfiture. I will not 
wait five minutes to ensure yours. It has begun 
already. You have destroyed any feeling I ever 
had for you. I have only contempt. (Turns L.) 

Eve. (Furiously) Oh! (Rattles windows) 
Open this. 

Sir Philip. No. 

Eve. I command you to open this window. 

Sir Philip. No. 

Eve. (Pause) I appeal to your pride. 

Sir Philip. No. Any pride in my memory of 
you died in this room a few minutes ago. 

Eve. I appeal to your pity. (Crosses to him) 

Sir Philip. It is all for myself. You have 
treated me very badly. 

Eve. (Gently) I'm sorry I did, Philip. For- 
give me. Let me go. 

Sir Philip. No. 

Eve. Please do, Philip. 

Sir Philip. No. 

Eve. (Crosses r. Angrily) Oh, it is disgrace- 
ful ! Abominable ! If this is a joke it is in the 
worst possible taste. 

Sir Philip. It's no joke. (Turns away. Eve 
goes angrily to armchair. Little by little she real- 
izes her helplessness. A feeling of misery comes 
over her as she realizes that all she has staked has 
been lost. Tears come into her eyes. She sits, 
buries her face, and cries quietly. Hearing a muf- 
fled sob, he turns and looks at her. She goes on cry- 



82 THE WOOING OF EVE 

ing. He softens and moves over to her. She raises 
her head to wipe her eyes and finds him looking at 
her) 

Eve. Don't stand there looking at me. I can't 
bear to look at you. (Tarns her back on him. He 
stands perfectly still for a moment, then goes to 
piano and plays very softly) Don't you dare to play 
that piano. (Stops her ears) I'll never hear the 
piano again without thinking of this — and hating 
you. (Long pause) Oh! (Grimaces at him. He 
continues to play. BELL. A bell sounds through 
the house. Eve sits up erect and listens) You have 
a visitor — God bless him! ("Sir Philip goes on 
playing) Let your visitor in, Philip. (He plays 
Polonaise loudly. BELL. Bell rings again, loud and 
long) Open the door, Philip. (He plays louder. 
BELL. Bell rings continuously till lights go out) 
, Sir Philip. No ! (Stops music) 

Eve. You might just as well open the door. 
When he's tired of ringing he'll come to the win- 
dows. He's sure to have seen the light. (Sir 
Philip turns round, looks at her, goes deliberately 
to the switch, and turns off the lights. Moonlight 
streams in through the windows. Lights out) What 
a very determined person ! Do you really think you 
can keep me here ? 

Sir Philip. (Comes down) I mean to. 
(Warn lights on) 

Eve. With someone outside? 

Sir Philip. Call out. No one will hear you. 

Eve. Help ! 

Sir Philip. Oh, louder! 

Eve. Help ! 

Sir Philip. Oh, much louder! (Sounds of 
footsteps are heard mi gravel. Goes to window L. 
and listens) They're going away. 

Eve. You really think you can keep me here 
with someone outside? You must be mad. (Picks 



THE WOOING OF EVE 83 

up a paperzveight and hurls it through the windows 
c. Crash of glass) Now give me the key and turn 
on the lights. They're sure to come now they've 
heard the smash. Turn on the lights and give me 
the key. (Sir Philip switches on the lights and 
hands her the key. LIGHTS ON. Eve unlocks 
windows c.) Come here! Straight up the path. 
(Man appears at windows c.) Did you throw that 
stone ? 

Chauffeur. Stone, Miss? No, not me, Miss. 

Eve. That's very extraordinary ! Well, what do 
you want? 

Chauffeur. The car for Sir Philip Grafton, 
that was ordered for ten. (Turns to go) 

Eve. Don't go away. Stay here. Just wait a 
minute. You can drive me to the inn first, and come 
back for Sir Philip. (Standing by windows) Philip, 
please say good-night to your mother for me, will 
you? Give me my cloak. (He fetches it. She 
stands in doorway looking on the path) Dear! 
Dear! What a lot of broken glass! (Sir Philip 
helps her with her cloak, which he offers inside out) 
I usually wear the lining on the inside. Oh, I won- 
der when we'll meet again. 

Sir Philip. To-morrow, at the wedding. 

Eve. Think so? 

Sir Philip. If you'll come. 

Eve. (Mockingly) Hope is delightful. Thank 
you so much for a most exciting evening ! (Laughs 
and goes outside the windows c. To chauffeur) 
Take me to "The Intrepid Fox." Then come back 
for Sir Philip. (To Sir Philip; "The Intrepid 
Fox !" (Disappears) 

THE CURTAIN FALLS 

END OF ACT II 



ACT III 

Scene: Same as Act I. The next morning, just 
before noon. Sunshine is flooding in from the 
great window. On every available place are 
flowers, in baskets, in boxes, and arranged as 
bouquets. Walkley discovered at the rise of 
curtain placing some newly arrived bouquets 
on the seat in the alcove. Bates enters c. with 
two baskets of flowers. 

Bates, (c. Standing nervously, holding the bas- 
kets timidly) Do these go in here? 

Walkley, (~r.) Yes. 

Bates. (Helplessly looking around) Where? 

Walkley. Oh, anywhere. Put them down. I'll 
see to them. 

Bates. (Puts them down just where he is stand- 
ing) There's a lady calling on Mrs. Rodd. 

Walkley. Tell her. 

Bates. (Looking around to l.) She's not here. 

Walkley. Well, go to her room. (Moves c. 
Sees flower baskets) Don't put them there. Go 
tell Mrs. Rodd. ( Bates picks up baskets and moves 
toward l. doors. As Bates goes to door l. Mrs. 
Rodd enters c. charmingly dressed for the wed- 
ding) 

Bates. (Stands respectfully until Mrs. Rodd 
moves down c. drawing on her gloves. He then 
comes in line with Mrs. Rodd and coughs) There's 
a lady calling. 

Mrs. Rodd. ("Quickly) What's her name? 
(Upc.) 

84 



THE WOOING OF EVE 85 

Bates. (Nervously. l.cJ I didn't quite catch 
it, madam. Sounded like "Alvston." Talks very 
quickly. 

Mrs. Rodd. Alverstone? 

Bates. (Nods quickly and earnestly) Yes, that's 
it, madam. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Angrily, r.c .) Very well ! ( Bates 
goes out c, closes door. Mrs. Rodd crosses to cx.j 
Walkley ? ( Walkley turns from arranging flowers 
at desk. Mrs. Rodd motions her to come nearc. 
She does so, L.cJ I leave for Switzerland to-mor- 
row afternoon. You will go with me? 

Walkley. (Brightening up. c.Rj Oh, really, 
madam ? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Looks shrewdly at her) Do you 
understand the meaning of the word discretion? 

Walkley. (Enthusiastically, c.h.) Oh, yes, 
madam. I use it frequently. 

Mrs. Rodd. Kindly exercise it — about Switzer- 
land. 

Walkley. Certainly, madam. (Goes to desk) 

Mrs. Rodd. Pack to-day, while we're all out. 
I'll tell you to-night about the train. That will do. 
(Crosses d.r.cJ 

Walkley. (c.) Yes, madam. (Turns to go) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Walks round to behind chair L.) 
Should my husband ask any questions — it's unlikely 
— I am going to the Barkshires' in Reading. 
(Walkley goes to her) Understand? (Walks round 
l. of ottoman, d.l. Walkley goes up to l. of d. 
doors) Not Switzerland — Reading. (Down L.) 

("Bates enters c, showing in Eve. Walkley goes 
out c, followed by Bates,) 

Eve. (Shaking hands with Mrs. RoddJ Oh, . 
I'm so glad you're here. I was frightened I'd miss 
you. 

Mrs. Rodd. Why ? 



86 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Eve. I've something dreadful to talk to you 
about, and I don't know how to begin. 

Mrs. Rodd. Dreadful? (Sits) 

Eve. ( Sits) Awful ! After I've said it vou will 
very likely send me out of the house. But I can't 
help it. I must say it. 

Mrs. Rodd. Go on. 

Eve. It's all very well to say go on but I don't 
know how to begin. I've never done anything like 
this, before. Never ! (Rise) The only way I can 
do it is to just blurt it out. May I — blurt it? 

Mrs. Rodd. Are you sure I'm the right person to 
blurt it to? (Looking at Eve. With a cold stare) 

Eve. Oh, yes. Indeed you are. (Nervously 
clasping and unclasping her hands. With an effort) 
Here goes. I went to three teas yesterday after- 
noon — three horrid, nasty, gossip-y teas — and at all 
of them there was one topic — you and Mr. Parris- 
court. 

Mrs. Rodd. What? (Rises) 

Eve. It was revolting, the things they said. Dis- 
graceful. So at the last tea I made up my mind to 
punish them. And I did. I recited to them, I 
quoted 

"Dame Gossip's a wanton, whatever her dress. 
Her sire was a lie, and her dam a guess. 
And poison is in her polluting caress. 
Unless you're a porker 
Keep out of the sty. 
Pass her by." 

"Ladies," I said : "You must keep out of the Rodd 
sty!" You'd have been surprised if you'd seen the 
effect. They wilted — absolutely wilted. Shut up 
like clams. So I made up my mind to come straight 
to you and tell you. What they said was — 
Mrs. Rodd. (Angrily) I don't want to hear it. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 87 

(Crosses R.cJ I don't care about gossip. I never 
listen to it. 

Eve. (To c.) You can't hate it more than I do. 
But what I detest even more than gossip is a man 
who, if we flatter him by even noticing him, goes 
around talking about us and boasting of his con- 
quest. 

Mrs. Rodd. Talking — and boasting? 

Eve. He's made you the laughing-stock of the 
miserable little tea gatherings. I know there's no 
harm— tnere couldn't be. But I hated to think of 
him going about London causing all this gossip and 
you innocent of it all. So I thought I'd tell you. 
(A movement from Mrs. Rodd who sits, ottoman 
rJ Now I suppose you'll never speak to me again? 
(Pause) And you're quite right. (Mrs. Rodd Sits 
on ottoman, livid with anger) It's too bad. I so 
much wanted you to like me. May I see Winifred 
before I go? 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes. 

Eve. Thank you. (Crosses to L.J 

(Enter Bates, announces Mr. Parriscourt. Pause) 

(Enter Parriscourt, scrupulously dressed for the 
wedding, from l. of doors c. Exit Bates c. 
closing doors. Parriscourt moves down c. 
smiling confidently and all unsuspectingly) 

Parriscourt. (To Evej Good morning, Miss 
—Miss ■ 

Eve. (Crosses up l.cJ Oh, don't try to remem- 
it. (Looks at Mrs. Rodd, who makes no sign. Eve 
goes out l. Parriscourt goes down near to Mrs. 
Rodd, and speaks in an undertone ivith quiet, ex- 
ulting confidence) 

Parriscourt. Dear heart — you look divine. 
(Pause) How well pallor becomes you ! (Pause) 
Sleepless again ? Each eye has its shadow. (Pause) 



88 THE WOOING OF EVE 

You're priceless this morning. Sleep and forget- 
fulness shall come — in Lucerne. ("Mrs. Rodd shiv- 
ers. Pause) At twelve to-morrow? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Firmly). No. 

Parriscourt. (Puzzled) No? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Still more decidedly) No. 

Parriscourt. Has something happened to 
change it? 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes. 

Parriscourt. Oh ! When shall we go ? 

Mrs. Rodd. Not at all. 

Parriscourt. (Aghast) You can't mean that? 

Mrs. Rodd. I do mean it. 

Parriscourt. But, surely — this must be — a — a 
— mood? A mood that will pass, eh? 

Mrs. Rodd. It will not pass. I am not go- 
ing to Lucerne — and I am not going to see you 
again. 

Parriscourt. But why? Why? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Rises. Turns on him) How dare 
you go about London talking about me? Boasting 
of your conquest? How dare you? 

Parriscourt. (Steps back a little) Oh! Is that 
the cause? (Explaining. Dozvn front of ottoman) 
I may inadvertently have dropped here a panegyric, 
there a scarlet phrase about you. You have col- 
ored my thoughts with the purple of your beauty. 
Where was the harm? I meant none. It was a 
poet's excess of adoration. Forgive me. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Furiously) Oh, if I'd only known ! 
Go! (Turns and points to him to go and walks 
back R.cJ 

Parriscourt. (Crosses up l. of doors. Pause) 
You can't mean that. If I go away, I shan't come 
back. (She turns her back on him) Dear ! Dear ! 
I have such hopes of you. I placed you among the 
elect. I carved you in ivory and put you on a ped- 
estal. Must I remove it? (Very bitterly) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 89 

Mrs. Rodd. Oh ! (Angrily. Goes down a little) 

Parriscourt. This can't be final. 

Mrs. Rodd. It is — absolutely final. 

Parriscourt. (Musing — turns) Lucerne alone 
is tedious. (Brightens up and comes down a few 
steps) Still, there will be Mount Street waiting! 
Eh? 

Mrs. Rodd. There is one house in Mount Street 
that is closed to you forever. This house. 

Parriscourt. Oh, come, dear heart! 

Mrs. Rodd. (With a flash of anger) How dare 
you? (Rises, turns to desk, and rings bell) 

Parriscourt. (Moves up c. to door, looks off, 
then turns down to Mrs. Rodd J This has been such 
a shock that I really can't stay for the ceremony. 
I can't, really. Pray make my excuses to Mr. Rodd 
and Winifred. Wish her joy for me — as my flowers 
did. (Indicating them, picking them up and smell- 
ing them) I'm sorry to miss the ceremony, but — 
weddings bore me. I'd counted so much on you. 
What a pity ! 

(Enter Bates c.) 

Mrs. Rodd. (To Bates, indicating Parris- 
court ) The door! ('Parriscourt bows to Mrs. 
Rodd, sighs and goes out c, taking the flowers with 
him) Bates ! ( Bates turns to Mrs. Rodd J I am 
not at home to Mr. Parriscourt in future. 

Bates. No, madam. (He pauses, then looks 
round the room) 

Mrs. Rodd. What do you want ? 

Bates. Miss Alverstone — she's not here. 

Mrs. Rodd. (Pointing to room off l.) She's in 
there. 

Bates. (Crosses to door l., and opens it. Eve 
enters) There's a gentleman to see you. 

Eve. What's his name? 

Bates. I didn't quite catch the name. 



90 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Mrs. Rodd. You must get the names correctly. 
Go and find out. 

Bates. Yes, madam. 

Eve. I know who it is — Mr. Livingstone. 

Bates. (Brightening) That sounds like it, 
madam. 

Eve. (To Mrs. Rodd,) I'll go down to him. 

Mrs. Rodd. No. (To Bates,) Here in a few 
minutes. 

Bates. Yes, madam. (Exit c.) 

Mrs. Rodd. It is ridiculous 

Eve. (Comes dozvn r. of sofa and turns quickly 
l. in front of it) Never mind ! Give him time. 
It's only his — er — third day here. ("Mrs. Rodd 
laughs) Then you're not angry with me for what 
I said just now? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Going to door) No. You were 
quite right to tell me of my friends' gossip — quite 
right. 

Eve. (In front of ottoman) Would you think 
me very rude if I asked you to let me see Mr. Liv- 
ingstone alone? There's going to be an awful fuss 
in a few minutes, and I want to talk to him first. 
Do you mind ? 

Mrs. Rodd. Of course not! (The sounds of 
Winifred's sniffling can be heard off) 

Eve. Here comes the bride. (Comes to c. Mrs. 
Rodd crosses to l. Winifred goes to Eve. She is 
in bride's dress, looking particularly miserable. She 
stands looking forlornly at Eve and Mrs. Rodd,) 
What a beautiful bride! (To Mrs. Rodd J Isn't 
she a pretty bride ? 

Winifred. (Gasping, on the verge of tears) 
But — I — don't — want — to — be — a — bride. 

Eve. I'll tell you a great secret — you're not go- 
ing to be a bride. You'ye lost him. 

Winifred. (Joyfully). Really? 

Eve. You'll never be Lady Grafton. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 91 

Mrs. Rodd. What? 

Eve. Never. 

Mrs. Rodd. Why not ? 

Eve. It's too long a story to tell but she never 
will. 

Winifred. I never wanted to be. 

Eve. I know. And you never will. Just plain 
Miss Rodd. Winifred to your relatives, and Winnie 
to those who love you. (Impulsively takes Wini- 
fred in her arms, then holds her at arm's length and 
looks at her admiringly) 

Winifred. (Fondling Eve,) I am so glad you 
eame among us. You are the only one who has been 
the least bit kind to me. (Looking at Mrs. Rodd,) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Severely to Winifred,) If you'd 
only stop crying and sniffling every one would be 
kind to you. (Goes out l.) 

Eve, (To Winifred ) There. All the world 
loves a smiler — smile at your cousin Eve. Go and 
take off your veil. (Winifred laughs and Eve 
stops and points to the veil) The badge of slavery ! 
The nun takes it when she gives up the world. We 
take it* when we give up romance. Once we put this 
on Fancy creeps away out of our lives and grim 
reality takes its place. (Takes it off and thrusts it 
into Winifred's hands) Take it out of my sight. 
The veil of tears. (Winifred sniffs) Run along! 
Make out you're going to the altar with Harry. 

Winifred. Oh — Oh ! 

Eve. Now face about. Shoulders up — toes out — j 
(Hums wedding march as they cross to door l.) 

(Enter Livingstone on second bar of the Wedding 
March. Winifred darts off door l.) 

Livingstone. The Bride 

Eve. Yes. 

Livingstone. (Closes door) Good morning. 
Is Mr. War render here ? 



9 2 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Eve. Not yet. 

Livingstone. Or Mr. Rodd? 

Eve. Not yet. 

Livingstone. Sir Philip Grafton? 

Eve. Not yet. 

Livingstone. But the wedding ? 

Eve. Not yet. 

Livingstone. (Eagerly and anxiously) Do they 
know — about you — last night? 

Eve. (Smiling mischievously ) Not yet. (Crosses 
and sits on ottoman) 

Livingstone. Good. (By sofa) I wanted to 
be here ahead of that — (Checks himself) — parson. 

Eve. You are 

Livingstone. If he carried out his threat, why, 
it would become town-talk. 

Eve. (Sighs and roguishly watches him through 
her half -closed eyes) Ah ! 

• Livingstone. (Nervously) You would be made 
the target for all kinds of — of — (Breaks off) It's 
unthinkable. 

Eve. What does it matter, so long as Miss Rodd 
Is saved? Of course, when the truth is known I 
shall be finished. That's certain. 

Livingstone. (Standing in front of her) No, 
it isn't. Not by a long way, it isn't. Not if I have 
to lie you out of it. 

Eve. (Rises) But I don't want to be lied out of 
it. I want you to tell the truth. 

Livingstone. But I came here to protect you. 

Eve. I don't want to be protected. I want the 
marriage stopped — and you've got to help me. Will 
you help me? 

Livingstone. Wait a minute. Tell me one 
thing. Will you? 

Eve. It depends on what it is. 
Livingstone. Was Sir Philip Grafton the man 
you spoke of yesterday? 



THE WOOING OF EVE 93 

Eve. (Pause. Looks away) Yes. 

Livingstone. (Pause) Oh! But, you said then 
that you hated him. 

Eve. (Sits ottoman R.) I did— yesterday — af- 
ternoon. 

Livingstone. (Pause) And yet a few hours 
later you were with him? 

Eve. Exactly. Wasn't that odd ? 

Livingstone. Why did you go if you hated him ? 

Eve. I don't know. I think hate and love re- 
volve in a great big cycle. First one comes up- 
then the other. Have you ever thought that? 

Livingstone. (Decidedly. Suddenly) Love 
and hate ? Love? (Sits l. of her) You don't mean 
to say you love him again ? 

Eve. Again ! I'm not sure I haven't loved him 
all these years. 

Livingstone. (Sits) After what he did? 

Eve. What did he do ? 

Livingstone. I don't know. But, after what 
you said- 



Eve. What did I say? 

Livingstone. Well, I don't know — only that- 



Eve. Yes, but after all, that was five years ago. 
(Thinks a moment) I must have been a dreadful 
little prude five years ago! 

Livingstone. (Sits back staring at her) I don't 
understand you at all. 

' Eve. Of course you don't. Don't let that dis- 
courage you. Few men really ever understand a 
woman. You see, you won't give us credit for any 
emotion except the domestic one. We're really 
brigands. But being feminine we must sit at home 
and munch the dry bread of peace — while you eat 
the wild fruits of lawlessness. 

Livingstone. Oh, but 

Eve. If we browse ever so little on your land of 
great privileges you raise your eyebrows and say, 



94 THE WOOING OF EVE 

/ don't understand you. I thought you believed the 
best of me last night, not the worst. 

Livingstone. I did believe in you — in my heart. 

Eve. (Doubtfully) Yes — but you suspected me 
with your eyes, didn't you ? (He does not answer) 
Now I'll tell you the truth. That mysterious note 
of mine I sent to you deliberately. I wanted you 
to do just what you did — go to Sir Philip to try to 
prevent me from coming. You were to be — uncon- 
sciously — my fellow-conspirator. I intended to 
make a scandal so that my uncle would have to stop 
the marriage, in sheer self-defence. You were to 
be my witness. As I had told you the incident of 
five years ago I thou g Jit you might jump to con- 
clusions. You did ! But my little plan went further 
than I expected when my letter fell into the hands 
of the clergy. (Laughs heartily) Now I have two 
witnesses instead of one. 

Livingstone. (Rises, crosses to c. Then speaks) 
Well, one thing is very plain to me — I'm just an 
ordinary, hundred-different kinds of a fool. 

Eve. Every man feels that when he tries to 
fathom a woman's reasons. 

Livingstone. (Moves away a few steps, think- 
ing. Turns to her) I suppose now I haven't a 
hope? Have I? 

Eve. (Rises. Looking at Livingstone^ My 
dear Mr. Livingstone, although my intelligence whis- 
pers marry Mr. Livingstone and find peace and con- 
tentment, my soul cries out : "Eve, get your 
Adam." And my Adam has always been Philip — 
in spite of his faults. We both have tempers — we 
are both extravagant. We would quarrel and make 
it up — quarrel and make it up again. But we are 
real mates. Still, I don*t suppose I will ever get 
him. Yet I shall always have a glorious memory. 
That's all. Just a memory. 

Livingstone. (Thinks for a moment, then makes 



THE WOOING OF EVE 95 

up his mind) Miss Alverstone, I have been suffer- 
ing from mental myopia. When I came in here I 
thought everything was sunshine and flowers. Now 
I am plunged in Cimmerian gloom. 

Eve. What ! 

Livingstone. Get me? 

Eve. No. 

Livingstone. Word picture. (Both laugh) But 
honestly, will you let me do one friendly thing be- 
fore you send me away? Let me straighten out 
last night's business. 

Eve. Indeed I will. And remember — the truth 
— the whole truth — and nothing but the truth can 
save me — I mean save my cousin. You and Mr. 
Warrender caught me red-handed. 

(Enter John Rodd, c. Comes dozvn. He is pale 
and haggard and evidently under a great strain. 
He also is dressed punctiliously for the wed- 
ding. He walks zvell into the room; stops short 
when he sees Livingstone) 

Livingstone. (Genially. Up to him) Hullo. 
How de do? 

Rodd. (Nods curtly at him, goes to Eve and 
shakes her warmly by the hand) Nice of you to 
come. I wanted you to be with us. Have you 
seen Winifred? 

Eve. Yes. She's gone back to her room. 

Rodd. (In an undertone, to Eve, r.) For good- 
ness' sake get rid of that man. The very sight of 
him irritates me. 

(Enter Bates, c.l. of door) 

Bates. Mr. Warren is calling. 
Rodd. Who? 

Eve. You mean Mr. Warrender. 
Bates. That's it. (Livingstone turns quickly 
and looks at Eve) 



96 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Rodd. I can't see him. 

Eve. You must see him. 

Rodd. (Surprised) Why? 

Eve. (To Bates) Wait a minute. (To Rodd) 
He has something very important to tell you. 

Rodd. (Still more surprised) How do you 
know? 

Eve. He has already told me. 

Rodd. If he intends to make any trouble 

Eve. (Quickly) He doesn't. He wants to save 
you from trouble. 

Rodd. Save me? 

Eve. Yes. Show him up. (Bates exits c.) 

Livingstone. (To Rodd) Sure you don't mind 
me -? 

Rodd. (Angrily) What? 

Eve. (Cutting in) Staying here? Certainly not. 
We want you. 

Rodd. (Turning to her) Why? 

Eve. He's in the muddle, too. (Opens door) 

Rodd. (Puzzled) What muddle? 

(Bates at door c. shows in Warrender and closes 
door. Warrender walks firmly and decidedly 
into the room; stops short when he sees Eve. 
Eve smiles at him encouragingly. As he takes 
a step toward Rodd he sees Livingstone) 

Livingstone. (Gravely) How are ye? 
Warrender. (d.c.) How do you do? 
Eve. (To Warrender) Do you mind me being 
here? 

Livingstone. Or me? 

Eve. We want to help you all we can. 

(Warrender looks from one to the other and then 
al Rodd) 

Rodd. (Loudly, to Warrender) Well? What 
is it? What do you want? 



THE WOOING OF EVE 97 

Warrender. (Resolutely) There can be no 
marriage today. 

Rodd. Who says so? 

Warrender. You will — when you know what 
happened last night. 

Rodd. What happened last night? (Livingstone 
shows great anxiety) Go on. 

Warrender. (Looking frowningly at Eve and 
Livingstone) I'd rather tell you without these 
people being here. 

Eve. Don't mind us. (To Rodd) We're really 
rather necessary. 

Rodd. (To Warrender) Say whatever you have 
to say. 

Warrender. (Hesitates. Then firmly) You 
can't allow your daughter to marry Sir Philip Graf- 
ton. He is a proven blackguard. 

Rodd. Oh, you've heard that, have you? 

Warrender. Yes, I have heard it, often. But 
I never had proof of it until last night. 

Rodd. What proof have you? 

Eve. Go on. Go on. What proof have you? 

Warrender. (Determinedly) Last night. He 
entertained a lady — alone — in his house in Edge- 
ware. (Pause) The letter making the assignation 
came providentially into my hands. (Pause) I 
caught them. (Pause) She was in his arms. 
(Movement from Livingstone) 

Rodd. I want something more than your word. 

Warrender. (Turns full on Livingstone) He 
was there a moment afterwards. 

Livingstone. (Angrily) Here — wait a minute! 

Warrender. (Firmly) You were. You can't 
deny it. 

Eve. He hasn't denied it. (To Rodd) Mr. 
Livingstone was there. (Nods towards Warren- 
der) He's quite right, Uncle. 

Rodd. She was in his arms? 



98 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Warrender. Yes. At night. No one else in 
the house. 

Livingstone. (Furiously) What nonsense! I 
was there. 

Eve. (Checking him) There was no one else 
in the room 



Livingstone. But I- 



Eve. (Turning to Warrender) A great help 
you are. 

Rodd. (Quite worried. Trying to find some ex- 
cuse) She was probably some old friend. 

Warrender. And if she zveref What was he 
doing with an old friend in his arms at that time 
of night? 

Eve. Quite right. (To Rodd) What was he 
doing with an old friend in his arms at that time 
of night? 

Rodd. I don't know. (Growing more and more 
nervous and worried) But no one need know any- 
thing about it ? 

Warrender. (Indicates Livingstone) He 
knows about it. / know about it. 

Rodd. Then I put you both on your word of 
honor not to say anything about it. 

Warrender. (c.) But the mere fact that the 
man is what he is 

Rodd. (r.) Rubbish! If we knew the whole 
story we should probably find she was either an old 
friend, or else — a — a — new one that didn't matter. 

Warrender. Didn't matter! 

Eve. (To Rodd. Warrender goes c.) Oh? 
Old friends have certain privileges, you think? 

Rodd. Certainly. (Jumping at the explanation) 

Eve. And new ones don't matter? 

Rodd. (Confusedly )~ Eh? In — in — a case like 
that — no. 

Eve. What a delightfully convenient doctrine. 
(Goes up to table and above it) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 99 

Rodd. (Crosses to Warrender,) I respect your 
earnestness, and I'm glad you told me. I'll give 
Sir Philip a good talking to — (Turning to Eve) 
— a thoroughly good talking to. But, frankly, I see 
no reason for stopping the marriage. And, what 
is more, I zvon't. 

Warrender. (Angrily) What? 

Eve. Oh ! 

Livingstone. Now see here, Mr. Rodd, I — was 

there last night and I 

Eve. (Crosses c.) You should have said all that 
before. (Stops him with a gesture and turns to 
Rodd) There's one great, overwhelming reason 
ivhy you'll have to. If you don't it will cause a 
scandal that will flash all over London. (Nods 
gravely) I was the woman he discovered in Sir 
Philip's rooms and arms. 

Rodd. (In a hoarse whisper) You? 
Eve. (Nods again) Yes. Me. (Nods again 
tozvards Warrender) It was only his delicacy 
prevented him from telling you. (To Warrender. 
Pause) Besides, I don't think you know who I am. 
My name is Alverstone, and I am his niece. (In- 
dicates Rodd. Warrender shows his evident aston- 
ishment. To Rodd) You see how dreadful it all 
is. (Pause for a laugh) 

Rodd. (Speaking as if to himself) The marriage 
must go on. Scandal or not, it must. 
Eve. No, it mustn't. Really, it mustn't. 
Rodd. (Rises. To Eve. Almost distractedly ) 
It must. Why not ? It's a very good thing for 
Winifred. It's an excellent thing for Sir Philip. 
And it's a splendid thing — for me. It must go on. 
Really, it must. 

Warrender. You are selling your daughter. 
Rodd. Not a bit of it ! I'm making her a very 
handsome present. I'm making Sir Philip a very 



ioo THE WOOING OF EVE 

delightful present. And I'm making myself — er — 
a very charming present. 

Eve. Uncle! You're an old reprobate. 

Rodd. No, I'm not. Really I'm not. But things 
have not been very rosy with me of late — I've tried 
to carry it off as well as I could — but there are 
thousands of people depending on my good name 
(Livingstone nods) and rather than sacrifice them 
I'll sacrifice Winifred. And after all, it isn't such 
a great sacrifice. It's one of the best matches in 
the country. 

Eve. Oh, Uncle, is it as bad as that? 

Rodd. Yes, dear. It is. 

(Enter Sir Philip Grafton at doors c, shown in 
by Bates, who closes the door) 

Sir Philip. (Comes in slowly and bows gravely 
to Eve and Rodd, then looks at Warrender and 
Livingstone. To Warrender) I thought I should 
find you here. (Takes out envelope and hands it 
to Rodd. Rodd takes it. His face lights up, and 
his hand trembles as he takes the document out of 
the envelope and looks at the signature. Both War- 
render and Livingstone make movements to Rodd. 
Eve stops them. Sir Philip, quietly, to Rodd) You 
have probably heard by now certain things that do 
not place me in a very desirable light. (Pause) 
Haven't you? (Eve is down l.) 

Rodd. (Confusedly) I — have heard — something. 

Sir Philip. I thought so. (Looks at Warren- 
der. Pause) I don't know exactly what you have 
heard, but no doubt it is sufficient to influence you 
in withdrawing your consent to my marriage with 
Winifred. 

Rodd. (Hurriedly) I won't altogether say that. 
(Warrender gives an ejaculation. Eve stops him 
from interrupting ) If you will give me your word 
that the incident was innocent and that you are 



THE WOOING OF EVE 101 

sorry it happened — why, I'll accept your explana- 
tion with my strong regret that you should have 
put yourself in such a position. 
Eve. Oh, dear! 

(Warrender up l.c. again tries to speak, and is 
silenced by Eve) 

Sir Philip. Indeed? You're generous. (Pause) 
Unfortunately, I can't give you my word that the 
occurrence was innocent. 

Eve. Philip 

Sir Philip. Or that I'm sorry it happened. 
(Warrender comes down. All look at Eve) I'm 
not sorry, and it was not innocent. 

Rodd. (Aghast. Under his breath) Not inno- 
cent? 

Sir Philip. No. (Rodd, Livingstone and 
Warrender turn and look at Eve. She drops her 
eyes, turns a little away, and laughs silently) I use 
the word "innocent" in its broader meaning. 

Rodd. (Relieved) Oh! Ah! 

Eve. Broader ? 

Sir Philip. The lady he (Indicating Warren- 
der) saw me with in an apparently compromising 
situation was, at one time, very dear to me. Last 
night I realized that my affection for her was deeper 
than I thought. It was as strong then at it was — 
many years ago. (To Rodd) Therefore I with- 
draw from a marriage that from the first has been 
more than a little distasteful to — your daughter. 

Rodd. (Disappointed) What? 

Philip. With my sincere regret for having ever 
tried to force my attention on her. (Livingstone 
crosses up to c. Eve sits. Warrender gives a 
great gesture of relief) 

Rodd. (r. Trembling with anxiety, holds up the 
deed) Does that mean that you intend to cancel 
your agreement with me, and — and marry Eve? 



102 TOE WOOING OF EVE 

Sir Philip. No. I have no intention of lashing 
myself to the wheel of Miss Alverstone's chariot of 
vanity. 

Eve. Oh, Philip ! 

Rodd. Ah! Well, of course, that's different. 
You don't know what it means to me. 

Sir Philip. (Pauses as he looks at Rodd) I 
think J do. 

Rodd. You'll lose nothing by it. 

Sir Philip. Of course not. It's a most excel- 
lent investment ! 

Rodd. I'll sign it now. (Goes to desk r. and sits) 

Sir Philip. (Standing beside him) There's just 
one clause there I've ventured to alter. I've ini- 
tialled it. Read it, and if you agree you might do 
the same. And the whole thing will be settled. My 
agent has full instructions 

(Rodd opening out the deed, and Sir Philip point- 
ing out the clause, which Rodd reads, agrees to, 
and initials. While they are so occupied the 
following scene goes on) 

Eve. (To Warrender. Pointing to door l.) 
Winifred is in there with Mrs. Rodd. If I'm here 
when the marriage takes place, I'll be bridesmaid. 

Warrender. Thank you, Miss Alverstone. 

Eve. You're welcome, Mr. Warrender. Can 
you laugh? (He smiles first and then laughs) I'm 
so glad you can laugh. Run along and teach Wini- 
fred how to do it. It'll save a lot of trouble later 
on. (Exit Warrender) 

Livingstone. Is it good-bye? 

Eve. I never say good-bye. We'll meet again. 
And remember one thing — wherever you go you 
carry a little bit of my heart with you. 

Livingstone. (Brightly) I wish I had it all. 
(Takes up coat. Eve by l. of door c. Livingstone 
smiles brightly at her and passes out) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 103 

Sir Philip. (Goes to doors c. Calling) Liv- 
ingstone! (Joins him by doors c. Livingstone 
exits) 

Eve. (To Sir Philip) Are you coming back? 

Sir Philip. Yes. 

Eve. Oh ! 

Sir Philip. To see Mr. Rodd. (Exit c. to l. 
Eve stands looking at him) 

(Door opens. Winifred sobs off l. Warrender 
laughs. Mrs. Rodd enters l. and closes door 
quickly) 

Mrs. Rodd. (Up l.c. to Rodd,) Then there will 
be no marriage, John? 

Rodd. (Confused. Up c.R.) No. Sir Philip was 
most reasonable. We must send the guests away. 

Mrs. Rodd. And return the presents? 

Rodd. Yes — most of them. 

Mrs. Rodd. It must be a happy release for both 
of them. 

Rodd. Quite — quite 

Mrs. Rodd. Mr. Warrender is in there with Wini- 
fred. 

Rodd. Oh! 

Mrs. Rodd. He's laughing and she's still crying. 
You'd better go in to them. 

Rodd. Oh, but Sir Philip is coming to see me. 

Eve. (By doors c.) Don't worry about that, 
Uncle. I'll tell him you're in your room. 

Mrs. Rodd. For goodness' sake, let them be en- 
gaged. It may quiet her. 

Rodd. I suppose I may as well. 

Mrs. Rodd. Yes, do. And let us get out of Lon- 
don for a while. 

Rodd. All right. Switzerland? 

Mrs. Rodd. (Shivers) Good Heavens, no! Scot- 
land isn't so bad. I'll go any time you like. 

Rodd. (Brightening up) To-morrow? 



104 THE WOOING OF EVE 

Mrs. Rodd. The sooner the better. (Movement 
from Rodd) Ask Miss Alverstone. She might like 
to go. (To Eve) Would you like to go with us— 
to Scotland? 

Eve. (Smiling — looking off after Sir Philip at 
c. door) Can I leave it open ? I may want to bring 
a friend. 

Mrs. Rodd. A friend? 

Eve. Yes, an old friend. 

Rodd. Certainly. (To Mrs. Rodd) I'm so glad 
we're going up to Scotland. There's something 
about London gets into your bones. 

(Mr. and Mrs. Rodd exit l. Winifred sobs — War- 
render laugh off l. as they exit. Sir Philip 
enters c, looks around the room for Rodd) 

Sir Philip. (To Eve) Where's Mr. Rodd? 

Eve. (Closes doors) In his room. (Sir Piiiltp 
about to go, l.) He doesn't want to be disturbed. 
He's coming back — he told me to tell you to wait, 
here. (Sir Philip sits on ottoman, his back to Eve) 
Haven't you anything to say to me ? 

Sir Philip. No. You've got your wish. Your 
cousin is free. 

Eve. Yes. Thank you. 

Sir Philip. I hope you will enjoy all the fruits 
of your victory. 

Eve. I'd like to. /Goes to l. of ottoman) Have 
you anything else to say to me? 

Sir Philip. (Rises) Yes. Was it just to save 
Winifred you did what you did last night? 

Eve. No — not altogether. 

Sir Philip. Was it harking back five years — 
revenge ? 

Eve. (Shakes her head) It was another of the 
deadly sins. 

Sir Philip. Oh! 

Eve. (Nods) Jealousy. 



THE WOOING OF EVE 105 

Sir Philip. (Amazed) You were jealous of 
Winifred ! 

Eve. And of you. 

Sir Philip. Amazing. (Turns to front) 

Eve. Isn't it? (Pause) Would you have kept 
me in that room until morning? 

Sir Philip. I would. 

Eve. Fancy that. 

Sir Philip. You may think it contemptible — 
but I wanted you to remember last night. 

Eve. Believe me — I shall never forget it. 

Sir Philip. You hurt me as I've never been hurt 
before. 

Eve. (Looking intently at him) I feel that. 

Sir Philip. To pretend an emotion so as to be- 
tray a man into a false position one usually associ- 
ates with the type of woman whom we all despise — 
the coquette. When it is done deliberately to com- 
promise a man it is (Breaks off) 

Eve. I didn't pretend — all the time. 

Sir Philip. Ha! 

Eve. Indeed, I didn't. I would have given ten 
years of my life if that man hadn't come in when 
he did. 

Sir Philip. After having arranged that he 
should ! 

Eve. I felt so sorry for that when you asked me 
to be your wife. 

Sir Philip. You don't appear to know your mind 
five consecutive minutes. 

Eve. My dear Philip — I have known my mind 
for the last five years, but have never recognized it. 
Is it true that your love is stronger than it was five 
years ago? 

Sir Philip. It was — until you outraged even 
ordinary decency. 

Eve. Is it gone now ? 

Sir Philip. No — I think I shall always love the 



106 THE WOOING OF EVE 

woman in you I like to look back and remember. 

Eve. Oh, Philip! 

Sir Philip. But the other part of your nature 
frightens me. You don't appear to realize the mis- 
ery you cause others. I saw that last night. There 
could be no happiness for us. I could never be 
sure of anything you meant. I thought I saw love 
and truth in your eyes and a moment afterwards I 
found you were assuming both to serve your own 
private ends. You've destroyed the very ground- 
work of affection — faith. Good-bye. (Goes to 
door l.) 

Eve. (Seated on ottoman c.) My dear Philip. 
You did see love and truth in my eyes last night. 
Believe me, I would have given anything if that 
man hadn't come in when he did. (Sir Philip 
moves down a step) When I saw you yesterday 
my heart leaped toward you. When I heard of 
your approaching marriage, I was very, very jeal- 
ous. But if Winifred had loved you I should not 
have interfered. (Exclamation from Sir Philip) 
Believe me, if Winifred had loved you, I should 
not have interfered. It is quite true I had arranged 
to be found in your rooms. But, oh, my dear, I 
never thought you would take me in your arms. If 
I had known your love still lived there would have 
been no need for witnesses. (Sir Philip turns 
away) I have a confession to make. The last five 
years have been a pilgrimage. I have followed you 
from city to city — all the places you used to visit — 
Paris, London, Monte Carlo, Rome — hoping to catch 
a glimpse of you — throwing myself your way to 
make you notice me. I'm sorry I've lost your re- 
gard. I'll never interfere in your life again. But 
I can't live without you. I'm so miserable. (Covers 
her eyes and cries. SfR Philip goes up c. Down 
again and up c. and down to her. Finally he sits 
gloomily beside her) 



THE WOOING OF EVE 107 

Sir Phiilp. What do you want me to do? 
Eve. I want you to woo me, Philip. (Puts her 
head on his shoulder) 



CURTAIN 
END OF THE COMEDY 



108 THE WOOING OF EVE 

STAGE MANAGER'S NOTES 
ACT I 

See that Jewel Case, Letter, Salver and Telegram, 
and Book of Poems are outside Doors C. 

See that Dagger, Cigarette Box with cigarettes, 
Ash-tray, Match-bowl, and small Matchbox 
with matches, and Vase of Violets are on table 
by sofa. 

See that Pens, Ink, Notepaper, and Envelopes are 
on Writing-desk. 

See that all brackets and door-strips are OUT. 
Green bunches dimmed at windows. 

Try blinds in Windows. 

Footlights one-fourth up. Amber only. 

Ready, Parriscourt, Bates, Mrs. Rodd, c. 

ACT III 

Notes : See Set same as Act I. Bouquets of 
Flowers, etc., on Tables. Sideboard and Win- 
dow-seat. 

See Ottoman is square to Audience. 
See Two Baskets of Flowers outside c. 
doors. 

Lights : Everything full up. Footlights three- 
quarters. Border one Circuit. Bunches at 
Windows and Doors. Brackets — out. 

Ready, Walkley, Bates, Mrs. Rodd, Eve. 



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